An Inner Light
by Zeragii
Summary: Getafix always knew there was something special about Asterix. Right from the moment the little Gaul was born. It was like a light that glowed within Asterix; touching all those around him and making him one of the most remarkable men the druid had ever known...But what if something threatened to take away that light? That special inner light.
1. Frustrated Experiments

**I do not own any of the Asterix characters, Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo do. I write only for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.**

**...**

_35 BC (Before Caesar)*. Deep within the Forest of Carnutes..._

The smell wasn't exactly pleasant. In fact, it was downright pungent. It made you want to wrinkle your nose and cover your mouth; expelling all air from your lungs. Sure, you wouldn't be able to breath, but that was preferable to the foul stench that wafted from the dark, ominous cauldron. The brew bubbled and stirred, raising a frighteningly large amount of steam and yellow colored smoke. To most people, this would be alarming, to say the least. After all, one does not purposefully soil the air of their home with such filthy a pollutant...Unless, of course, you are a druid. If that is the case, it is not only your job, but your hobby, to participate in such an odd, distasteful ritual. And that was a fact that Getafix was quickly learning.

The bearded fellow peered down at the glowing liquid with obvious disapproval. _It shouldn't be yellow. This can't be right._ He quickly moved to a shelf of books, fingering each title until he found the one he was looking for, and hurriedly snatched it down. The volume was dusty, not from disuse, but from the various powders that had settled upon it throughout the day. This room was a laboratory; a room given to the science and magic of all the druids living in Carnutes. Explosions, smoke, and a general assortment of airborne magic powder was not uncommon in this room; deep beneath the ground in a hidden labyrinth of druidic abodes. It was here that druids from all over came to live and work; to try and better their skills and invent new and wondrous spells.

But at the moment, Getafix felt anything but skilled or wondrous as he poured over the faded Celtic scrawls on the water stained parchment of the ancient book. Needless to say, he was frustrated. Beyond frustrated; he was just about ready to throw the volume away in an uncharacteristic fit of anger. Only his grim determination kept him from doing so.

The letters were extremely hard to decipher. Not because Getafix didn't know _how_ to read them, but because they were so blotched and poorly preserved that he simply _couldn't_ make out all the words. It was like some ink-happy dope had suddenly decided to dance his pen across the page in a completely random manner, only getting in an intelligible symbol every two or three sentences. It was like trying to read the doodlings of an infant child.

It made completely, and utterly, no sense.

With a sigh, Getafix closed the book, causing dust to puff out from the musky pages. He set it down on the nearby table with a _thump _and then sat down heavily on a worn, wooden stool. He was tired. No, that didn't even begin to explain how he felt. He was upset; the pent up anger sapping away his energy. But he couldn't stop now. Not now. Not when he was so close to-

"Getafix?"

_Uh, oh..._

Getafix turned to the deep, curious voice that had suddenly drifted to him from the doorway. There, standing just barely within the yellow glow of the cauldron, stood the Venerable Chief of the Druids. He, just like Getafix, wore the typical white robe of the druids, tied about his waist with a strong cord of rope. And, like all the official druids, he carried a golden sickle, carefully slipped between the cord and his side. It was the only item in appearance that Getafix did not share with the man. They both had white hair, and a long white beard; even though Getafix was a good many years younger. They both wore the same attire, and even looked alike, to a degree. But Getafix had no golden sickle attacked to his side. That was something he'd have to earn.

Something he hoped to earn by the next evening.

Putting on as casual a smile as he could, even though he felt as though he had been caught with his hand in the cauldron, Getafix greeted his mentor. "Good evening, O Venerable Druid. I hope you are well?" It was possible that the ancient fellow had come to mix a potion for his rheumatism. Or to fix some sleeping powder.

The Venerable Druid lifted an eyebrow in suspicion. "I am well. It is not uncommon for me to wander the halls of our earthbound fortress in the dark of night. It is my right and my duty. But you, Getafix; what reason can you give for being up at such a late hour?" He fixed his student with a look that demanded an answer, but also gleamed with a very slight hint of amusement. He wrinkled his nose at the smell in the air; craning his neck to see past the guilty younger man and get a glimpse at the offending brew. "And what, may I ask, is that?"

Getafix sighed. There was no point trying to talk his way out of this mess. He looked even guiltier as he answered. "I...I was practicing for tomorrow's ceremony."

"Practicing?" His mentor looked confused. "But you have already mastered the spell I taught you. You should not need to practice."

"It's not that spell, O Venerable Druid. It's...It's a brew of my own."

That caught the elder's interest. "Of your own?" He came forward, dipping his head low to get a better look at the churning yellow liquid that had congealed into a lumpy goo. He seemed unaffected by the strong stench, and actually reached out a finger to taste it.

"Oh, don't do that!" Getafix cried, taking hold of his teacher's wrist before he could touch the foul stuff.

"Why not?"

"It's...not right," the younger man mumbled, quickly removing his hand from the most revered druid in the land.

"Not right?" the elder asked, and he almost seemed unsurprised. "How do you mean?"

Getafix went and got the dusty old volume from the table, opening it to the page that, for the past three hours, had stumped him. He turned so the Venerable Druid could see. "I found this old book of Celtic spells. In it, I came across this one brew for strengthening the elderly."

"A practice that we use quite often. What is so special about it?"

"This one is a little bit stronger," Getafix continued, tracing the garbled words with his finger. "It should be more efficient than the potion we use now."

His mentor looked from the crusted book to his student's face. "But you said that you were making your _own_ brew. Surely, this does not qualify."

"But it _will_," the younger druid insisted. "I'm trying to concoct an even more efficient potion. One that will enhance the power of strength."

"To what extent?"

"I...don't know yet," Getafix confessed. He rapped the open book with his knuckles, obviously discouraged. "This volume is so old, I can't read all the ingredients. And, like mathematics, one can not make it to the next level of efficiency until one has mastered the last. If I can't figure this one out, I can't take the next step to create my own concoction." He gave the book a hard shake. "And I _can't_ figure this out!"

The Venerable Druid took notice of his pupil's mood, before giving Getafix a smile. "It is late. Often times that which seems complicated to us in the dark hours of the night become clear with the light of day. And an appropriate amount of _rest_, Getafix." He lay a hand an the younger's shoulder. "Come, tomorrow is another day. Do the spell I taught you at the ceremony tomorrow. You will pass from student to official druid, and then you will have a lifetime to blow our minds away with your genius."

Getafix turned to protest to his mentor's comment on his intelligence, but then he saw the kind, almost teasing grin on the Venerable Druid's bearded face. The frustration and tension in his back and shoulders that he had been suffering the past, grueling three hours, suddenly fell away; leaving him more relaxed, but also extremely tired. With a nod of his head, Getafix extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron before bidding his teacher goodnight and heading for his room.

The Venerable Druid was right. Let tomorrow be what it would. For now, he'd stick with what he already knew. The unknown could wait a few more days to be discovered.

And besides, tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

**...**

***As you may already be aware, my readers, 35 BC is the same year that our dear friends Asterix and Obelix were born.**

**I realize this chapter is very, very short; but I've gotten myself so excited about starting a new Asterix story that I simply _HAD_ to at least get it _started_. I would like to thank all the people who helped me gather information, some of which I used in this chapter, and some of which will be used in later chapters. Please review and let me know what you think. :) THANKS!**


	2. Friends and Rivals

The early morning rays of the rising sun filtered in through the high, narrow windows of Getafix's sleeping chamber. They danced along the flooring, and the bed sheets, finally coming to rest on the sleeping figure's face. Getafix scrunched his eyes shut tighter, trying to move his head away from the unwelcome glare. When that failed to do the trick, he disentangled his right hand from blankets and lifted it to shield his eyes. Now a little less assaulted by the bright light, Getafix groggily opened his eyes. He was immediately reminded of the reason why it is unwise to stay awake until the late hours of the night when one is planning to rise early the next morning. His head pounded in protest as he threw back the sheets and placed his bare feet on the cold, wooden floorboards. His eyes kept trying to close on their own accord; feeling heavy and puffed with the need for a few more hours of rest. But Getafix knew he couldn't do that. Not today.

Rising to his feet, Getafix quickly got dressed; pulling on a clean, pure white robe. He tied the cord about his waist and slipped his blue, sack-like shoes on his feet. He ran a hand through his frizzled beard, smoothing it out before quickly leaving his chamber. He wanted to meet up with his fellow students, and talk about the coming ceremony. He knew, from experience, that doing so would ease not only his anxiety, but also that of his friends. At least, to some extent.

People-non-druid people- tended to think of the druids as invincible folk; unaffected by emotions common in normal human beings. That they somehow were above that kind of thing. That they were stoic; completely immune to the troubles and dangers of this world. That, of course, was the most ridiculous thing Getafix had ever heard. He was just a man. Sure, a man being trained in the arts of potions, powders, healings, and spells; but he was still a man. He felt the same emotions that any other fellow would feel. He had doubts, worries, concerns, passions, angers, and hopes just as anyone does. The druids _were_ taught to understand emotions and feelings, helping them better control them, but that didn't mean they suppressed them. Many of the eldest druids were very versed in this control, appearing grim and serious. But others, such as Getafix and a good number of the other students, had yet to master the trick.

Getafix moved swiftly through the torch-lit halls of the underground fortress. He knew the way faultlessly by now. He had spent nearly all his life in Carnutes. Ever since he was nothing but a small boy he had roamed these corridors. Of course, many years had passed since then. It took years and years and _years_ to become a druid. Getafix wasn't even sure how old he was anymore. He had lost count.

The Druid Fortress of Carnutes was much like a subterranean monastery or abbey. It was a maze of passages, chambers, laboratories, and store houses. It was a safe haven; a sanctuary. But a bother to navigate. Many of the halls looked very similar, and any newcomer would find himself lost within a very short time. There were many forgotten and abandoned rooms, many of which Getafix had enjoyed exploring as a child with the other youngsters. It had been against the elder druids' liking, but, at the time, Getafix had found the adventure worth his mentor's disapproval.

That had been a long time ago. Many, many years. Since then, Getafix had gone from a rather rebellious child to a very studious and intelligent student. He had worked hard under the Venerable Druid's teaching, and had learned much. And now, today, at long last, he was to pass over from student to master. He would finally be a full-fledged druid. Though, as he raced down the halls and passageways, nearly bursting with excitement, he felt very much like a little boy once again.

Finally, after much twists and turns, Getafix made it to the end of the passage, where two large, oaken doors marked the Great Hall*. With a tug of the iron ring that served as a door handle, Getafix jerked the portal open, slipping through as it shut with a resounding _boom_ behind him.

The Great Hall was an enormous, rectangular room, with a tall ceiling and intricately designed pillars that supported the earth far overhead. It was an echo-filled place, where the sounds of a whisper could be heard like a shout. It had no windows, due to it being far deeper in the ground than Getafix's bedchamber, but it was by no means dark. Candles of all sizes where placed all over the room, even hung from the ceiling suspended by wooden circlets high above the floor. The Hall was a busy place, where most meals were served to the several dozen druids who resided in Carnutes. This morning was no exception. The room was packed with elders and students alike, all happily digging into a hearty breakfast.

Getafix quickly located his group of friends seated around the single, enormous table that was used for all. They sat together in a clump, chattering away like everyone else, discussing the excitement that the day would bring. They, like Getafix, were a good deal younger than the elder druids, but were still quite old. They all sported long, white beards of various lengths and were dressed in the common, white robes.

As Getafix approached the group, one rather overweight student looked up from the conversation, his plump face breaking into a friendly smile. He beckoned Getafix with a wave of one hand while vigorously tapping the bench beside him with the other. Getafix carefully picked his way through the noisy, crowded room, finally making it over and seating himself beside, perhaps, his closest companion in the world.

"Good morning, Getafix!" the fellow greeted. His very distinct British accent breaking through all the other voices in the Hall. He was helping himself to a very large potion of food, which he kept piled on a plate in front of him. He picked out an apple, knowing that that was all his friend required for breakfast, and handed it to Getafix, who accepted it gratefully.

"Good morning, Valuaddetax*," Getafix replied. He polished the apple against his robe, shining it up before taking a crunching bite. It was very sweet, almost too much so. "And how are you on this fine day?"

"Oh, I say! I'm just about ready to burst with excitement!" He wiggled around on the bench as if to show the possibility of that fact. "After all these years, Getafix, we're finally going to make it! We're finally going to be druids!"

"That is, of course, if we pass the final ceremony," a student to Getafix's right interjected. He was a thin fellow, who resembled Getafix in many ways, though he didn't have as much hair. He was known for being one of the less intelligent students, but he was still respected among them, though he could be unbelievably irritating. As he spoke his long, prominent nose leaned in their direction, determined to enter the conversation whether he was invited or not.

Getafix rolled his eyes skyward. "Good morning, Suffix."

"We're going to pass, just you wait," Valuaddetax said confidently. He leaned forward to grab another fruit from a nearby basket perched on the table. His arms, however, were too short, and he couldn't reach, so he gave up. "After all, chaps, we've been at this for a good many years now."

"But you very well know that not_ all _of us will pass," Suffix insisted.

Getafix didn't know why the fellow always had to be so negative. "Well," he added in while he could, "There's no use worrying about who will pass and who will not. We should be concerned with our own performance, and let the others worry about theirs. Besides, if anyone doesn't pass, it only means they aren't ready to move up and need another year of mentoring. Nothing too drastic. I wouldn't be too concerned."

_"I _don't need to be _concerned_ at all."

The voice came from behind them. It was a deep, belittling voice, that, even after all these years, still rose the hairs on the back of Getafix's neck. Getafix didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "Good morning, Mastix." Getafix's tone was low; controlled, but it still managed to ring with an obvious dislike of the new arrival.

Mastix was an arrogant student, and deeply disliked by nearly all the others. He was older than most of them, by a good two years or so, and used every opportunity to rub in that fact. When Getafix and Valuaddetax were children, the constant teasing and bullying had deeply bothered them; especially Valuaddetax. As they had grown older, the attacks had hurt less, as the students started to learn the ways of the druids. But, even to this day, it was unpleasant.

To the teachers and elders, Mastix was an excellent student. He worked hard, and was exceptionally brilliant; a prodigy, you might say, in the arts of magic and healing. He was more powerful than any of the other students. Not by much, you understand, but enough to lord it over the others. His strong and encouraging record gained him the honor of being one of two students to be mentored personally by the Venerable Chief Druid; the other being Getafix.

Getafix had hated every moment of it. Being taught alongside Mastix was just begging to be a target. And a target Getafix had been. Every botched up potion, every mixed up spell, and every mismatched recipe Getafix tried was always related somehow to one of Mastix's cruel pranks. Getafix had spent a number of times in his bed chamber, confined there as punishment for one of Mastix's tricks for which he'd been framed. It got so bad that even the normally mild-mannered Getafix had finally broke down and told his mentor all about it. The Venerable Druid, thankfully, believed him, punishing Mastix and putting an end to the pranks. However, it was well known among the students that, because of his telling the Venerable Druid, Mastix still carried a strong resentment toward Getafix.

"I don't have to worry, like _you_ lot do," Mastix continued, ignoring Getafix's greeting completely. He leaned over the others, snatching an apple from the basket on the table. "I will pass the ceramony like a full-fledged druid." He roughly ejected Valuaddetax from his seat, taking the spot for himself. The motion caused Valuaddetax to stumble backwards, almost falling to the floor. Mastix gave the shocked Getafix a belittling smile.

"Why did you do that?!" Getafix cried, pushing himself to his feet.

"Because I'm better than you." Mastix's voice sounded as though he were still addressing all the students, but his gaze was locked with Getafix. Mastix was talking to _him_.

When he was younger Getafix might have punched the arrogant creep in the face; but, again, years of training had replaced his aggressive nature with almost impenetrable patience. Getafix held his gaze for a moment, fixing his rival with a hard look. He didn't rise to the bait. He knew Mastix was just trying to get under his skin. Finally, with a hurried movement, he excused himself from the table and turned to leave. "Come, Valuaddetax. Let's go see how we can help above ground." And with that, he and his friend left the Great Hall.

Mastix grinned as he turned back to the table, the food now his to enjoy alone. He knew that, despite Getafix's calm and controlled mask, the old goody-goody was burning up inside. That satisfied Mastix's revengeful spirit for the time being, and so he dug into the hearty breakfast.

Beside him, on the table, in front of where Getafix had been sitting, sat an apple with only one bite out of it. Getafix had left it there; his hunger forgotten.

...

The passageway leading to the surface was narrow and steep; usually quite a bit of exercise for any of the druid folk to climb. All of the them were old, if not ancient, and, though they were all in excellent health, it was still a formidable obstacle. But as Getafix stormed upward, Valuaddetax scurrying behind him, neither noticed the exertion it required.

Valuaddetax followed Getafix, footsteps echoing in a light patter in the hall, mixing with the deeper, longer stride of his friend. He could sense the taller one's mood; and it was _dark_. It was a brooding viper coiled in Getafix's mind, fed by anger and frustration. Valuaddetax knew now wasn't a good time to speak up, but the silence was deafening. "Ah...Getafix?"

"Why does he _do_ that?!" Getafix practically exploded. He didn't turn to face his friend, but continued his way up the passage. "There was no need for it! He's an adult! We're all adults! His behavior isn't fitting of a two year old _brat_!" He suddenly stopped and turned, almost causing Valuaddetax to crash into him. "And the way he pulled you from the table! I ask you, is that the image of a grown, soon-to-be druid?!" His anger softened when he noticed his friend's worried, almost frightened face and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Valuaddetax. I didn't mean to lose control. It's just...just so _upsetting_."

His shorter, pudgier friend nodded in agreement. "He does it to annoy you."

"I know. And he seems to be doing a pretty good job."

"Oh, I don't know, Old Bean...I thought you handled it quite well."

Getafix snorted. "On the outside, maybe."

"Either way, it's over now. We might as well forget it since we can't do a thing about it." He grinned up and his friend and Getafix felt his anger slowly melt away.

Getafix gave a fond chuckle. "Alright. Let's go find Prolix."

Going above ground was always a rather blinding experience. Though the chambers below were by no means dark, they were still considerably more so than the world above. As the two friends emerged from the passage entrance, they spent a good few moments blinking rapidly; trying to adjust their eyes to the sudden, normal sunlight. Once they achieved full use of their vision again, they headed off into the forest in search of their old friend; an ancient druid who had taken a liking to all the students through the years, and was well liked in return.

Prolix was old and bent. In his hand he always gripped a knotted branch; his own version of a cane. He was known as a fantastic storyteller; having spent many a cold winter night telling tales to the students by firelight in the Great Hall. He was kindhearted and had a certain brightness; a cheerfulness about him that made you like him the second you met him. His big, bushy, white eyebrows hung over his clear blue eyes. The orbs twinkled in merriment, and the old fellow was often heard bursting out in laughter at the slightest thing. Prolix was everybody's friend. Though, he could be a bit odd.

Getafix and Valuaddetax found the ancient druid nearby, picking a series of berries for the ceremony later that evening. He glanced up when he heard them coming, his large eyebrows rising up on his bald head. He waved them over excitedly, already his cheerful nature washing away the anger and despair Getafix had felt only just a moment before. "Come! Come, my brothers, and look!" He continued to beckon until the two younger men were standing beside him.

"What is it, Prolix?" Valuaddetax asked, peering around to see what all the excitement was about.

"Ah!" Prolix cried, spreading his arms wide as if to show them the whole world. "You do not see! You think with what you see and taste and smell. But you do not use your _senses_! You must take in the world in a new way, or an old way, but some way that is besides the senses. For you see, the senses can be deceiving."

Getafix and Valuaddetax blinked at him, not having understood a single word. Prolix was known for his way of rambling on. Many attributed it to the fact that he was so old. Of course, that opinion was given by a group of druids well over their eighties, who were, by no means, young. Often what Prolix said was confusing, unrelated gibberish; sentences strung together as a series of unfinished thoughts, unless he was telling a story. But, over time, Getafix had found that, though the words might be mixed and mismatched, they usually had some hidden meaning. A lessen cryptically woven through the sentences, just begging to be decoded.

Getafix raised an eyebrow at the druid. "How can we use our senses, as you say, and yet not use them?" He gave Prolix a smirk, knowing that there was a reason behind the words. He could see it in the elder's eyes. A sort of twinkle that smiles out at him.

Prolix let loose one of his hearty laughs. "Ah, Getafix! You are a funny lad; and I like that." He smiled. "You trust the senses that everyone trusts. The eyes, the ears, the nose...But there are other senses."

"Other senses?" Valuaddetax piped up. Prolix was always willing to teach to anyone, student or no, that would listen. Or even if they weren't listening. Luckily, he was an interesting fellow to converse with, and the students often found his company fascinating.

Prolix looked at him as though he had forgotten the pudgy student had been there. "Yes. There are two. One is your knowledge; what you know to be true. You _know_ it is dangerous to go outside in the forest after dark. Therefore, you sense that you should not go outside after dark, lest something bad should happen. To go against this knowledge, by going outside after dark anyway, would make that sense stronger. Like running your hand the wrong way over a plank of splintered woood, you would be more aware of your error than if you stroked it the right way." He paused to take a breath, looking at the two students curiously; like he was wondering why they were there.

After a moment of silence, Getafix urged, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What's the second 'other' sense?"

Prolix looked confused for a second, but then his face lit up in remembrance. "Ah, yes! The second; it is the most unique of all!" He fairly danced with pleasure. "It is the sense of _feeling_."

Valuaddetax tilted his head. "You mean, the sense of touch?"

"No, no, nononono!" Prolix shook his head vigorously. "That is not it at all! The sense of feeling isn't something that can be touched. It is a feeling; an emotion. Often one that cannot be explained. Like when you _feel_ like you're being watched, or you _feel _like something is going to happen, good or bad. I believe many would call it...intuition. It is not a conscious sense, but rather one that comes to you suddenly, and without warning; with no apparent reason."

"Hmm." Getafix let the words sink into his memory, figuring they would make sense to him eventually. "Very interesting, Prolix, but why are you telling us this?"

The ancient druid gave a chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know...but, it's safe to say, I had a _feeling_ I should tell you." His grin widened at their confused stares before he suddenly turned, shuffling off through the underbrush at a frighteningly fast pace. "Now, come on you two!" he called back as he disappeared from sight. "We've got a lot to do before that ceremony this evening! And I'm going to need some assistance!"

Valuaddetax and Getafix exchanged glances before giving a chuckle of their own, dashing off through the forest to find and 'aid' the supposedly 'frail' little druid.

**...**

*** Great Halls where actually very common during the Middle Ages. It was often the main room of a palace, castle, or abbey, during that time. It doesn't really fit, period-wise, in the Asterix timeline, but it _was_ what I was looking for, so I used it. :)**

***Valuaddetax is a druid from the album _Asterix and the Goths_, where Getafix introduced him as "an old friend and colleague, the British Druid, Valaddetax." Suffix is also from the same album.**

**So there it is, the second chapter. Might be a little slow at first; I've got a lot of things in this story that need explaining, including introducing new characters. I hope it was alright. Please review and let me know what you think. :)**

**THANK YOU!**


	3. Distaster

The day flew by at an incredible rate. But that was, in part, due to the fact that both Getafix and Valuaddetax were kept so busy they didn't have a chance to think about the time. They helped in the kitchens. They helped in the forest. They assisted in collecting herbs and various other items. They even helped set the large table above ground in a green clearing not far from the passage entrance. Thankfully, they weren't the only students offering to do their part, and soon the forest was full of the white-clad men. They worked, decorated, and planned for the days upcoming festivities. The excitement was literally a buzz in the air; a contagious jittery happiness that seemed to have infected them all.

Getafix managed to stay as far away from Mastix as possible. He had had as much of the arrogant man as he could take in a day, and feared another encounter would provoke a rather violent reaction on his part. And so, Getafix worked hard; taking up tasks that kept him well out of Mastix's reach, and kept Mastix out of his. It wouldn't due to get in a fight; not this close to the ceremony. Getafix had studied too hard for too long to be set back now. He couldn't afford to not pass and be sent back to being mentored for another year. And Getafix knew Mastix would like to see nothing more than his rival disgraced in any way, shape, or form.

Getafix was determined not to give him the chance.

Soon the sun began to set. Lanterns were hung all around the glen, lighting it up so brilliantly that it looked as though the sun had never left. The druids and their students gathered around the immense table. They tucked into the feast with a will; talking and laughing as the food was presented and promptly devoured. There was roast boar, rabbit stew, strawberry scones with butter, and a large verity of nuts, berries, and leafy green vegetables. Wines and cordials were opened by the cask, all different flavors. There was a good portion of elderberry wine, as well as hazel nut wine, cherry wine, and, of course, ordinary grape wine. The fermented juice was handed out in moderation, so as not to cause anyone to be intoxicated. They all wanted their heads to be clear for the ceremony, for their is nothing quite so dangerous as an inebriated druid performing spells.

The cordials too where handed out in moderation. There was strawberry cordial, raspberry cordial, blueberry cordial, and an impressive number of other flavors, many of which where made of fruits non-druids probably had never even known existed.

Dessert was even more stupendous. Cakes and pies of various types were laid out all across the table. Apple, pear, and peach cobblers, still steaming hot from the ovens assaulted everyone's nostrils with an almost overpoweringly divine aroma. Sugared scones, far sweeter than the dinner biscuits, were presented. They were the last things to be eaten; filling in the small gaps that some still felt in their stomachs.

When the feasting had slowed down to a light grazing, the Venerable Chief Druid slowly stood from his seat. He held his hands out, palms facing upward as though he were expecting it to rain. It was the gesture for everyone to listen, and, a moment later, all the talking, laughing, and munching died out to silence. The Venerable Druid nodded his appreciation. "Thank you, brothers. Thank you. But as you might have guessed, it is time to get on with the ceremony." He withdrew a scroll from the folds of his robe, unrolling and squinting at it, trying to read his own, nearly unintelligible handwriting. "The first student is...Valuaddetax." He looked up, peering around the table, looking for the lucky candidate.

Valuaddetax felt anything but lucky as he sank lower into his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. He suddenly felt terribly anxious; more so than he had expected himself to be. He felt unprepared and incredibly embarrassed. His mind drew a blank, and he couldn't even remember the spell he had practiced. He probably would have stayed that way indefinitely, if not for the kind hand that was all at once resting gently on his shoulder. Looking up with a startled jump, Valuaddetax found it was Getafix.

His taller friend gave him an encouraging smile, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. He didn't say anything, and yet, Getafix didn't have to. Valuaddetax knew he had his friend's support, and somehow that made everything a whole lot better. With a grateful nod, the pudgy man rose from his seat and made his way to the center of the clearing. He gave a cough to clear his throat, sending one last glance at Getafix before pulling out a small, brown pouch, tied carefully with string, out from his robe.

"This is a powder," he began, in his nervous condition, stating the obvious. He coughed again and continued. "I was taught this spell by my mentor, the honorable Druid Immix." He sent his straight-faced teacher a quick look, before taking a deep breath to finally get control of his nerves. With a smooth, precise movement he untied the string from the pouch and flung the contents into the air in a circular pattern.

The wind kicked up, taking hold of the auburn-colored dust. It shot off in all directions, pushed by some invisible whirlwind. The force flew over the heads of the observers, up into the treetops. The sound of the powder hitting the leaves was audible as it settled, giving a soft tinkling of tiny particles. The wind changed direction, blowing clockwise around the clearing. The trees swayed with the strong breeze, bending and creaking under its influence.

All at once, starting on the opposite side of the glen, a change started to come over the trees. The leaves, which were lush and green, started to fade to a pale yellow. The color shifted, spreading to all the timber on the edge of the clearing. It jumped gracefully from tree to tree, completely surrounding the druids in golden leaves. As the transformation made it back to its starting point, the color changed again; this time to a deep red. The action was repeated; going through various shades of orange, peach, and a soft, nearly translucent pink. When the last autumn color had come full circle, the leaves faded back to their original, lime green. The wind died down, and, a moment later, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

The druids let out a collective sigh of approval. It had been a beautiful spell, perfectly executed. There was a round of applause, highlighted by wise words and calls of encouragement. When the noise died down, the Venerable Chief Druid gave a nod and a smile to the still fidgety Valuaddetax. "You, Valuaddetax, have passed the required training and ceremony. You are now a Druid, and will be honored as such in this Forest of Carnutes, and beyond it." There was a hearty cheer from the students and a genuinely proud congratulations from the elders.

Valuaddetax returned to his seat, his face all aglow. Getafix patted his shoulder again, this time in congratulation.

The next hour and a half was a series of successful spells and failed attempts. Most of the students had prepared well for the ceremony; having practiced until they knew their spell backwards and forwards. Others, such a Suffix, who weren't quite as studious as the rest, were told that they would need to endure another year or so of mentoring.

Chantings, potions, and powders filled the clearing with colorful smoke as spell after spell was presented one by one. There were invisibility spells, speed spells, time spells, weather spells, growth spells, and even a youth spell. All of them were temporary, of course; lasting fifteen minutes at the longest. As each student gave their piece, the elder druids either applauded or gave helpful advice. Soon, the number of students who hadn't yet performed dwindled down to two; Getafix and Mastix.

The Venerable Druid glanced back at his scroll once more. "Second to last is Getafix," he called.

Mastix sent his rival a formidable glare as Getafix eased himself up from his place at the table. Just as all those before him had done, he made his way to the center of the clearing. On the outside he appeared calm and confident, but on the inside he was practically cringing with anxiety. He managed to keep the consuming nerves under control, focusing all his energy into each step of his performance. All other thoughts and concerns he forced from his mind; placing himself fully in the moment. Taking a pouch from his robe, just as Valuaddetax had done, Getafix untied the string. "My name is Getafix," he called out. " My mentor is the Venerable Chief Druid." With that he gave a quick, upward jerk of his arm, sending the powder contained in the pouch straight up into the air.

It had a distinctly reddish tint to it. It sparkled in the lantern light, shimmering as it dispersed into the cooling night air. It seemed to dissolve; becoming less and less until it had disappeared completely. For a moment, nothing happened. The clearing was as still and quiet as a church. Most people would have laughed; claiming that the spell had not worked. But druids know that often times a spell does not work all at once. Sometimes there is a short delay in between the performance and the result.

That was the case with this particular spell. After a short time, which felt more like an eternity to Getafix, the druids began to see a change come over the clearing. It started near where the powder had deminished, starting as a golden flicker in the grass, the size of a lightening bug glow. It began to grow steadily, pulsating like the beat of a heart. Suddenly, in a shock wave of warm light and energy, it enveloped the entire glen; table, druids, trees, and food. The force was gentle, only strong enough to blow out all the lanterns. And yet, they were not plunged into darkness. The entire party was abruptly shielded in a bubble of daylight. Above, beyond the cover of light, the stars were still visible, though it goes beyond all scientific understanding. The druids blinked in the sudden sunshine that came from all around them, despite it being well after sunset.

The beautiful, unexpected brightness suddenly diminished, retracting back to its starting point at an incredible speed, relighting the lanterns as it did so. It happened so fast that if left the druids in a mix of silent shock and wondrous awe. A moment of quiet, and then the assembly rose to their feet, applauding and congratulating Getafix on his magnificent performance, and of the Venerable Druid's fine teaching. Getafix blushed ever so slightly at their praise, completely missing the look of pure hatred that Mastix was directing at his back.

"Getafix," the Venerable Druid said proudly, "You, have passed the required training and ceremony. You are now a Druid, and will be honored as such in this Forest of Carnutes, and beyond it." Again there was a mighty round of cheering and congratulations. Feeling rather embarrassed by all the attention, Getafix made it back to his seat as quickly as was suitable for a real, full-fledged druid.

"Mastix, you shall finish the ceremony." The Venerable Druid's voice was tinted with obvious expectation. Mastix, like Getafix, was quite a skilled individual. The elders expected a fantastic presentation from him. Though, it would be difficult to outshine Getafix's magnificent performance.

Mastix rose majestically from his seat, moving to the clearing's center with balanced grace. He stood erect, and at ease; lacking the appearance of anxiety. In fact, he wasn't even inwardly nervous. His confidence showed in his stance; visible in the steady way he took in his audience with a slightly superior air. He wasn't intimidated in the least by the watching eyes ready to judge his unquestionable skill. He knew he was the best of the students; the most powerful.

And he was about to prove it.

"I am Mastix," he began grandly, as though at his name all the world would bow before him. "I am student to our most Venerable Chief Druid." His voice was deep, filling the glen with the low, fullness of its tone. Mastix smiled, and, for a moment, he actually seemed like a rather pleasant fellow. "For my presentation, I have been taught, and have practiced, a spell for the transformation of the temperature. It is a very simple trick." The last part of his sentence was said scornfully, as if the mere thought of such an easy task was insulting to his intelligence. "But I have, with the Venerable Druid's permission, a spell of my own choice."

It was a rather rare request. Or, at least, as close to a request as Mastix's arrogant character would allow. But it was his right as a druidic student to choose to either take a spell chosen by his mentor or one of his own decision. Getafix, himself might have chosen to do the same thing if he had been successful in the previous night's experiments. To choose to do one's own choice of a spell was by no means rude to one's mentor. It just didn't happen very often. Most students were satisfied, and trusted, their teacher's suggestion.

Even so, Getafix felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. The request might not be against the rules; and even though it normally wouldn't be insulting, for some reason it seemed extremely disrespectful to Getafix. Maybe that was because Getafix, oddly enough, knew Mastix better than anyone else. He knew his darker, crueler side of his fellow student better than anyone else. The thought that Mastix had chosen a spell that matched his own warped taste was not only suspicious, but frightening.

The Venerable Druid raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem offended; in fact, he looked curious. With a slow nod of his head he gave his permission.

Mastix was pleased. He rubbed his hands together vigorously as he let his eyes wander over the assembly until they settled on a familiar, old, bent figure. "Prolix, in order to perform my spell I will need your assistance."

The eldest druid lifted his thick eyebrows in question. "Me?"

"Is there anyone else here named Prolix?" Mastix snorted impatiently.

Prolix got himself up from the table, grumbling all the while about 'manners' and 'respecting the elderly'. He moved at a snails pace; slowly making his way to the center of the clearing. Getafix knew he was doing it purposely to annoy Mastix. Getafix had seen Prolix move at surprising speeds, like earlier that morning, and he was certain the old druid could have moved at a faster rate now if he chose.

Finally, after a long series of mumblings and shuffling, Prolix took up his position next to a thoroughly exasperated Mastix. The student moved away from the elder, seeming to count out a certain distance that, the others assumed, was required for whatever spell he was about to perform.

"And now," Mastix said grandly, "I shall begin."

Rolling up his pure white sleeves, Mastix resumed a braced stance; like a sailor bracing for the impact of an oncoming storm. He turned, facing Prolix, who was a good four or five yards from him. Mastix's face seemed to harden in intense, focused concentration; his eyes never once leaving Prolix's bent form. Everyone in the clearing became silent, respectfully watching; giving the student their full attention.

Mastix lifted his arms, pointing them toward the star-studded sky. A mischievous smirk slowly spread over his face as he opened his mouth and spoke in a deep, monotone voice.

"Bhfianaise istigh de chroí agus anam,

Óir i gcomparáid thar,

Deontas dom mo mhaith, mo sprioc,

An chumhacht anois a dhéanamh a roinnt.

Tóg uaidh agus a thabhairt dom,

An chumhacht sin a lorg mé,

Mar sin, beidh mé do gach duine a fheiceáil,

Fear gan lag a thuilleadh!"*

Getafix had felt an uneasy feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach since the moment Mastix had taken his place in the center of the clearing. A sort of nervous energy that, for some reason, made him want to stop Mastix from performing the ceremony. But seeing all the others happily conversing and watching; hearing the calls of the animals in the calm forest, and the tranquil night breeze blowing through the trees, Getafix pushed the feeling aside. Nothing was wrong. Everything around them was light and cheery. Perfectly safe...

And then the scene changed so suddenly that it left Getafix immobile with shock.

As the dark chant left Mastix's lips, the elder druids' eyes widened in horror. The mentors and teachers sprang to their feet, knocking over cups of wine and benches in their sudden, fear-fed haste; leaving the students alone and puzzled at the table. The Venerable Druid, normally a calm and graceful presence, was shouting; crying out in the chaos for Mastix to stop. But it was already too late.

The atmosphere of happy gathering had all at once gone dark. Not physically dark, but dark nonetheless. Even though the lanterns still burned bright, somehow, their warm glow was suppressed; dimmed by a black fog that had suddenly settled in the clearing. Even the twinkling stars above them winked from existence, blocked out by the ominous mist. That haze began to glow with its own eerie light; a gathering shade of electric blue.

Before anyone could do a thing about it, the glow seemed to absorb into Mastix, causing him to shine with an intense glare into the eyes of the panicked druids. Mastix redirected his arms, moving them from above his head to pointing directly toward the terrified Prolix. The old man's eyes were wide in disbelief, and he couldn't seem to get his body to move out of the way. He couldn't move in any way; just stare in fear as the next stage of the spell was executed.

The blue light left Mastix's hands like a lightening bolt; zig-zagging across the clearing in all directions, but following a very clear path. The intense brightness caused the druids and their students to flinch back, covering their eyes with cries of surprise and pain. But that was nothing compared to the scream the broke out a moment later.

The bolt had hit Prolix straight in the chest.

That was when the students realized why their mentors and elders were suddenly so uncharacteristically frightened. They too jumped from their seats, struggling forward, hoping to help. The sight and sound of Prolix being attacked fueled them with terror and rage. But try as they might, they couldn't come any closer than three yards of Mastix or Prolix.

The Venerable Druid was still trying to make his way toward the pair in the clearing's center, but the force of the strong magic happening all around him prevented him from getting close enough. He watched in terror as the bridge of energy between Mastix and Polix changed from that eerie blue to a sinister green. "Stop! Mastix, by Toutatis! Please, stop!"

Prolix was still standing there, face frozen in a grimace of agony. He couldn't move; he couldn't breath. He felt something within him being ripped away; torn from his soul. It hurt more than anything he had ever felt in his life. His energy was literally draining away, leaving him weaker and weaker. And yet, he couldn't even fall to his knees. The force of the energy surging forcibly through him held him up, locked standing with no power over his mobility.

Mastix was unaware of the chaos around him. All he knew was the warm, strengthening feeling that was filling his body. It was wonderful; immense waves of immeasurable power soaking into his being. He could feel himself gaining Prolix's strength; gaining something he couldn't explain. He didn't realize the pain his spell was inflicting on the elderly druid four yards in front of him. He didn't hear the screams or the pleading cries for him to end the spell. He didn't even truly see the incrediable amount of blue energy he seemed to be channeling. All he saw was a sort of blurred haze. All sound was muffled and soft; except the beating of his own heart which pounded in his ears. All his senses were dulled and reduced. All but his ability to feel. The fantastic feeling of uncomprehendable power filling him; completing him.

Suddenly, that sense of powerful control shifted. Like tripping over a stone, Mastix felt it stumble. The strength began to weaken as his grip on the spell slowly started to slip away. He tried to refocus his attention; gain a better footing, but he couldn't. The spell was too strong. It was wiggling away from him. He was loosing control. The beautiful, wonderful power began to leave him again. He hung on to it with every once of his strength, but he couldn't keep it. It made him angry; but also filled him with panic. That power had been his, and he wanted it back.

Getafix continued to try and reach Prolix. With every bit of his stubborn nature, the new druid struggled forward a step, then two, only to be pushed back a moment later by the force of the spell. His friend had gone deathly pale, the green light digging into his chest like a spear. Why was Mastix doing this?! Polix had never hurt anybody! Everyone liked the eldest druid. How could Mastix do something so horrible?! Getafix shifted his panicked eyes toward his rival, noticing the calm, almost relaxed way that Mastix was absorbing the energy, pulling it right from Prolix's body. A thought came to Getafix, making him wonder if Mastix knew what was happening; what he was doing to Prolix.

Suddenly, the energy changed to a mix of warring blue and green bolts. The force blowing around the clearing increased, pushing the druids back further and giving them no choice but to latch onto anything solidly fixed. The energy became spastic; more violent, and the look of peace was gone from Mastix's face. It was replaced by one of pained concentration. Like he was struggling to wrestle with some strong force, and was losing.

"The spell is too strong for him!" the Venerable Druid shouted to Getafix through the noise, even though he was right beside him. "He can't control it!"

As if on cue, there was a tremendous sound, like thunder. It boomed out of the clearing, probably audible for miles. The blue and green lightening broke off from between the two men, branching out like an explosion all around them. The force threw the other druids to the ground. The wind picked up and the ground shook as though it would pull apart. The cacophony of energy and power reached its full zenith and then suddenly...it ended.

Everything just stopped. The dark fog lifted; the stars reappeared in the sky above, and the lanterns, still lit, returned to their former glory. The silence was deafening. One could have heard a pin drop in the quiet clearing. All was still. All except Prolix and Mastix.

The eldest druid, no longer held up by the inescapable force stumbled back, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fell like a stone to the hard ground. He lay there, utterly still; unmoving.

Mastix also fell, though he was still conscious. He collapsed forward to his knees; dazed and blinking rapidly. The remaining echoes of that glorious power still humming through his veins. It was almost maddening to lose it. He vaguely began to become aware of the large gathering of white blotches in front of him. Rubbing a fist in either eye, his vision finally cleared. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Before him was a crowd of druids; every mentor and every student was kneeling beside the body of another white-clad figure. Only this figure wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing. Prolix.

The Venerable Druid was supporting his lifetime friend's head, rocking back and forth in anguish. The chief druid's normally wise, controlled expression was filled with a mix of grief and shock. His eyes lifted and met Mastix's own confused stare. Even though he spoke softly, Mastix heard every word.

"...Prolix is...is dead..."

**...**

*** "Inner Light of heart and soul,**

**Gold beyond compare,**

**Grant to me my want, my goal,**

**This power now do share.**

**Take from him and give to me,**

**That power that I seek,**

**So I will be for all to see,**

**A man no longer weak!"**

**Whew, this was hard and intense to write. I worked on it as much as I could. I wanted to get it finished and posted before tomorrow. Because, I'm sorry to say, tomorrow I return to college (dun dun dun dunnnn!). But don't worry, I will still continue writing as much as I can. It might just take me a little longer in between postings.**

**If this chapter leaves you asking questions, that's good, because, hopefully, they're supposed to be answered in the chapters to come. All the same, if anything doesn't quite make sense, I value my readers' advice and/or friendly criticism. :)**

**Alright, that's that. Let me know what you think!**

**THANKS ONCE AGAIN!**


	4. Wrath

Getafix sat silent and alone in the laboratory deep within the recesses of the druidic fortress beneath the Forest of Carnutes. He didn't move, other than the slow rhythm of his breathing. He didn't want to move; he couldn't move. He felt frozen. An icy grip of horror still gripped his heart, scenes of the dreadful ceremony still running ceaselessly through his mind. He wanted it to stop. For it all to have been some odd and terrible dream, and that he would wake up at any moment. But it wasn't a dream. It was a living nightmare, from which there was no escape.

Prolix was dead. That was still hard to accept, but it was true. The comical little old fellow had probably died before he had even hit the ground. And even though druids are powerful folk, there is no spell for reviving the deceased. Once the soul leaves the body, there was nothing to be done. They had done all they could.

Memories of Prolix filled Getafix's heart with sadness. He tried to remember some of the old timer's teachings, but his mind refused to do so; too shocked to fully comprehend anything other than a feeling of utter hopelessness. This was not what he had pictured his first night as a full-fledged druid to be like. He had envisioned joyous celebration; laughing; feasting. For more years than Getafix could count, he had waited for this day. And now that it had come, he found himself wishing that it had never taken place at all. Again the event played in his mind.

When the Venerable Druid had proclaimed that Prolix was dead, there had been a long, terrible silence. Mastix stood, eyes wide in disbelief, hands held out in front of him as if they were stained with blood. It was the first time Getafix had ever seen his rival look honestly and truly frightened. And he knew right then that he had been correct; Mastix hadn't been aware of what his spell would do to Prolix. He was as shocked as they were. But that didn't make him innocent.

The elders had taken Mastix to the Council room, where they stayed for two hours. When they emerged, they announced their decision regarding the younger student. Mastix still had that look of shock on his face, as if he still couldn't believe it was all happening. They had brought him to the Great Hall, where everyone had gathered, to proclaim his fate and punishment.

The Venerable Druid had stepped forward, turning to face the assembly. His stance had been calm and controlled, but his voice shook with unexpressed emotion, and it was more than obvious. His words still echoed in Getafix's head.

"Mastix, son of Kylix, what you have done here tonight is inexcusable. You have murdered not only a fellow human being, but a fellow druid. Since that has never happened, it took us long to decide what to do with you." As he had spoken, the Venerable Druid had kept his eyes locked with Mastix's own. "And so, it is the belief of this society, that you be banished from Carnutes as an outsider. You may never become a druid; for where an evil is done, evil is sure to grow." He had dropped his gaze the second he had finished, as if he couldn't look Mastix in the eyes any longer.

Mastix's face had remained aghast for several moment. Not a person had moved in the Great Hall. All had reigned in silence.

Suddenly, Mastix's expression had begun to change. Pure anger replaced his shock, and his hands clenched at his side. All at once he looked very frightening, and the druids had backed away from him instinctively. Mastix had shot out a hand, finger pointed directly toward his ex-mentor. "This is not over!" He had screeched, causing everyone to back away further. "I am more powerful then any of you fools! There will be a time when you will remember this day, and you will regret what you have done! YOU WILL REGRET IT!" In a twirl of his cape, Mastix had suddenly disappeared. An invisibility spell. The elders had begun searching immediately, determined to find the rebellious student and escort him out of Carnutes.

Getafix had felt, all at once, very overwhelmed. He had made his way down to the laboratory, where he could be alone with his jumbled thoughts. And so he sat, silent and in solitude, deep within the recesses of the druidic fortress beneath the Forest of Carnutes. He didn't move, other than the slow rhythm of his breathing. And he still felt overwhelmed.

"Getafix?"

The voice startled him, causing him to flinch back instinctively when a hand was lain gently on his shoulder. He glanced up, finding his mentor's worn, troubled face gazing down at him. "Oh, O Venerable Druid, it is only you. I was afraid it might be...might be..."

"Mastix? There's no fear of that. He is long gone."

Getafix nodded sadly, and the two men lapsed into silence. After several moments had passed, Getafix got up the courage to speak. "Venerable Druid? I-I don't understand why Mastix did what he did...I feel like there are pieces missing; that there's more to this than I'm seeing. How did he gain so much power? How could he lose control like that and...and kill Prolix?"

The Venerable Druid gave his only remaining student a fond look. "You were always very perceptive, Getafix." The smile faded, and his face took on a deep, serious expression.

Mastix had been one of the druid's students. To lose Mastix was like losing a son. Getafix couldn't imagine the pain such a terrible turn of events must be causing him.

"You are right," the teacher continued. "There is far more to this then you know. Something that goes far back. Back to the days when I was nothing more than a child, apprenticing in these very halls."

Getafix blinked, trying to imagine how long ago that might have been, but couldn't. "Something happened? Something that has to do with what happened tonight?"

The Venerable Druid nodded slowly. His eyes took on a faraway look, as though he were reviewing that 'something' in his mind. He was quiet for a long while, before turning to Getafix once more. "Have you ever heard of the Book of Olc?"

Getafix shook his head.

"It was a volume, old and very worn, that once belonged to a Druid within Carnutes. His name has long since been forgotten. He kept in this volume an account of spells." The Venerable Druid waved a hand toward the dusty shelves around them. "But not like these. The spells that he kept were dark and dangerous. Evil. They contained monstrous powers. When the other druids found out that this man held in his possession a book of spells containing such terrible tricks and spells, they took the book from him and burned it, or so it was reported. It was believed to be destroyed...But, apparently, it was not."

"What do you mean?" Getafix asked, his eyes wide and all his attention focused on the tale. He felt there was a connection between this nameless druid's old book, and the incident with Mastix.

"Within that book there had been one spell, so unthinkably terrible, that that one spell alone was cause enough to destroy the volume. It was a spell for extracting a magnificent power called the Solas Anam."

Getafix raised an eyebrow, trying the words out himself. "Solas Anam?"

"The Soul Light." The Venerable Druid took a deep breath. "Every so often, Getafix, a person is born with a special gift. They exhibit a wonderful strength, but not as we think of such. They are kind and full of immeasurable courage. They seem to affect all around them, like a bright light in the midst of darkness. Just as some are gifted with a fine voice, or a steady hand, or even in spells, as you do; some are born with this gift. The Solas Anam. These people are called Teaghais, or Dwellers. They are very rare. Only a few have ever been known to exist." The Venerable Druid's face became dark once again. "The Book of Olc contained a spell for extracting that power from a Teaghais. It is a terrible spell that grants the one who casts it to gain the Dweller's gift. In the hands of a Dweller, the gift is special; magnificent...But in the hands of an unworthy heart, it becomes dangerous and deadly. The process of extraction is fatal to a the Dweller."

Getafix was starting to make the connection. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt confused and uncertain. He even felt a little angry. Angry that all this had been kept from him all these years; that no one had ever told him. But he tried to remember that the elders had thought the book had been destroyed and forgotten. There had been no need to carry on such stories of evil. All the same, Getafix felt frustration turning toward the elders for keeping it a secret. "So you're saying Mastix somehow found this...this Book of Olc and used the spell on Prolix?" Something else clicked in the new druid's brain. "That means that Prolix was a..."

"A Dweller. Yes. One of the very few that have ever lived." The Venerable Druid ran a tired hand down his wrinkled face. "I should have known better. There were signs, but I ignored them. Mastix wanted nothing more than to impress the council and become one of the most powerful Druids of all time. And I believe he had the potential to do it. He must have come across the Book somehow. There are many passages and rooms long forgotten deep beneath us. Perhaps the book was conserved, or rewritten, and hidden far within the catacombs of our fortress. I do not know...But Mastix must have found that spell, and then found out that Prolix was a Seaghais. Wanting to impress, he must have learned the spell for the ceremony."

The two druids remained silent for a moment. Then Getafix spoke softly. "Do you think Mastix knew it would kill Prolix?"

The Venerable Druid shook his head sadly. "No. His face showed no malice or indication that he knew. But that changes nothing. Once one's heart has been exposed to such an evil spell, his want for power will grow. That was why we had to banish him. He was a danger to our Order. To our very lives."

Getafix nodded. "Then he can't hurt anyone else." It was a statement, not a question. But then Getafix noted the look of sorrow and fear that flitted across his mentor's face. "What is it? What's wrong?" He had a terrible feeling welling up inside him that suddenly surged to the surface. "Oh, by Toutatis...He's got the Book...Hasn't he?"

The Venerable Druid nodded sagely. "He must. We were unable to find it. Nor him. He has fled with the Book of Olc clutched in his hands. And it contains many other dark spells beside the spell of Extraction."

"But what does that m-" Suddenly a rumbling cut of Getafix's sentence. A deep, earthly rumbling; one that started low and far off, but slowly made its way toward them. It gained strength as it neared. The vibrations began to grow in magnitude, and the many cups and powders in the laboratory began to rattle and spill. All at once there was a sound like thunder, just like there had been earlier that night in the clearing. The force of it knocked the two druids to the floor. The room was shaking; rocking like a boat on high, churning seas.

"What's happening?!" Getafix yelled, trying to avoid the heavy, falling shelves of books that were tumbling to the ground where he lay on the floor. "Is it an earthquake?!" He had heard of such things, but never had he experienced one. It felt as though the earth would pull itself apart.

The Venerable Druid stumbled to his feet, lurching forward to help Getafix up off the ground. "Yes, but it is no ordinary one!" The druid was yelling, but with all the noise, Getafix could hardly hear him. "This is Mastix's doing!"

Getafix's heart was gripped with an icy fear. Mastix had been unpleasant as a rival. As an enemy, he was down right insane! If the earthquake was indeed sent by his ex-fellow student, then they were all in serious trouble!

Dust and chunks of earth began to fall from the ceiling, causing the druids to cough and choke. Taking a hold of his mentor's arm, Getafix began to steer him toward the door. "We have to get out of here!" They made it out of the laboratory just as there was a great rush of grit and air. In a cascading avalanche of rock and dirt, the laboratory roof collapsed, burying the room beneath a pile of immovable soil.

They raced through the passages, ducking around falling stones and coughing on the dusty air. At each tremble the ground felt as though it were being snatched from beneath their feet, and they'd either fall to the ground or against the wall, still struggling forward in a race to make it out alive. As they made it into the main tunnels they were joined by other panicked persons, many of which were students helping their mentors. Their eyes were wide in terror as they raced, their once pure, white robes and beards soiled a dark, dirty brown.

Just when Getafix thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, there was suddenly a great explosion. Luckily it was from behind them and not from in front of them. It was a tremendous blast, deafening within the small confines of the passages. A moment later, there was another, closer this time. Then another, further away; and another; and another. It took Getafix several explosions to finally figure out what was happening. The various laboratories that that dotted the underground fortress had always been filled with potions and chemicals of various kinds; all quite powerful. The explosions must be caused by the potions mixing with each other as room after room collapsed. The force of each blast was equal to, if not more powerful than, the earth rending shakes beneath them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Getafix and the Venerable Druid broke out of the passage's entrance, stepping out into the world above ground. Getafix had hoped that somehow, everything would be better there, safe from the choking dust and smoke. But he had been wrong.

The Forest was in the midst of the worst storm any of the druids had ever witnessed. Lightening streaked across the sky, lighting up the trees whipping to the side in a force of wind Getafix had never experienced. It was if the great trunks would be uprooted and thrown aside, plucked from the soil like a child might pick a daisy. The sky was dark, the stars blocked from sight for the second time that evening.

The druids who had made it above ground gathered around the Venerable Druid, panicked and dirty, trembling with fear and horror. They were unsure of what to do. Their world was being ripped to shreds; collapsing beneath the soil below them. They looked to their leader; hoping he would know what to do. Getafix began taking a mental count of those present, and was glad to see Valuaddetax among them.

The Venerable Druid was counting those under his care as well; surprised but relieved to find that no one was missing. He looked into their wild eyes, trying to come to a decision. They couldn't stay here. Mastix's wrath was upon this place, and to stay would be madness. They would be killed.

"We must flee Carnutes!" he shouted above the storm. "We have no choice! Go, find someplace to live until it is safe! Scatter, so you will be harder for Mastix to find! Go!"

The druids didn't need to be told twice. They scattered in all directions; some heading for the Eastern side of the forest, where they could escape to their neighbor, Senones*. While others fled for the forest's Southern and Northern borders. Getafix could only hope that they would all make it out alive. He saw Valuaddetax pause, looking back toward him. Getafix waved for him to go, wanting his pudgy friend to have a chance.

The Venerable Druid turned to Getafix, who was still supporting his mentor's side. "You too, Getafix!"

"I'm staying!"

"Don't be ridiculous! You'll be killed! Now go!" When Getafix still refused to move, the Venerable Druid's stern glare became a sad plea. "Please, Getafix...I can't stand to lose another friend tonight."

Getafix stared into his eyes for a moment, still resolute, before he let his gaze drop to the ground. He gave a slight nod as he released his teacher's arm reluctantly. "But what about you?"

The elder druid gave a weak smile. "I will head South."

"Then so shall I-"

"No!" The Venerable Druid gripped his only remaining student's shoulders tightly. "We must be separate. I am the one who banished Mastix. It is me he will be after. If you come with me, he will attack you as well. That mustn't happen, Getafix! Do you understand?!"

Getafix wanted to argue, but they were wasting precious time. He knew the Venerable Druid was right. Mastix's wrath would be focused on the elder. But Getafix didn't care whether he was caught with his mentor. Mastix disliked him anyway, so no big loss there. Besides, he was a druid now. He didn't have to obey his teacher. There wasn't anything the fellow could possibly say that could change his m-

"Please, Getafix. See it as my last instruction as your mentor."

_Well, that did it._ How could he refuse to obey his superior, and rob him of his last request. _Last_. The word filled Getafix with dread. With a sigh, Getafix relented. "I'll head Northwest," he said. "Toward Redones*."

The Venerable Druid gave a nod. "May Toutatis give you speed."

Getafix thanked his mentor, returning the phrase before reluctantly turning and heading, what he believed, was Northwest. It was hard to tell in the chaos-ridden storm that raged all around him.

Behind Getafix, the Venerable Druid watched until his pupil was out of sight. "Be safe, Getafix," he whispered, "You still have a mighty part to play in this; I am sure." With that, the elder turned South and staggered off into the darkness.

**...**

***Senones and Redones are among several names I got from an old map of Carnutes; which, awesomely enough, is the exact same area as the map found in Asterix comics. :)**

**As much as I enjoyed writing about the druids in Carnutes, I'm happy to be moving on. It's hard to come up with words to replace "mentor", "teacher", and "druid" without feeling like I'm repeating each word every two sentences!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THANKS!**


	5. The Village

Getafix wasn't sure how long he had traveled; whether it had been hours, days, or weeks. He really hadn't paid that much attention to the time. His mind had been occupied; still reeling from the events that had so unexpectedly taken place. He felt stunned; dazed. Every memory, from the ceremony onward, was a blur of confusing images and escalating emotions. Then there was the information that the Venerable Druid had given him. It was a meadow of clarity in a forest of chaos; but it was a hazy clarity, lost in the shock and fear that still coursed through his mind; clouding it.

Leaving the Forest of Carnutes was the hardest thing Getafix had ever done. He had not had time to prepare himself; mentally or physically. His departure had been so sudden, he still couldn't truly process that it had all really happened. That he had really turned and left. He felt empty, as if a part of him were missing. He left alone, separated from his fellow druids for the first time in...forever. He tried not to let his emotions run away with him. He tried to remember what he had been taught, to keep his feelings in check; but all with the same success. He failed miserably.

He was angry; that was the one emotion he was _sure_ he was feeling. Anger at Mastix; anger at that unnamed druid who had created the Book of Olc and started this whole mess; but most of all he was angry with himself. He should have insisted on going with the Venerable Druid. He should have found a way to counteract the storm. He should have been able to stop Mastix...And he should have been able to save Prolix...His mind filled with different possible scenarios in which he could have prevented each horrendous event that had transpired. However, deep down, he knew that he really couldn't have done anything to change what had happened. But he hated; no, refused to admit that...At least, not yet.

After hours of alternating between running, stumbling, and walking, Getafix finally stopped to rest under the shelter of large oak tree. He was still within a large forest, though he was certain it was not Carnutes. He couldn't really remember when he had crossed the border, but he knew that he indeed had crossed it. One clue that was in favor of that theory was that the intensity of the storm was drastically different where he was now then it had been in Carnutes. The intense lightening, powerful wind, and earthquakes had given way to nothing more than a drenching downpour and some far off rumbles of thunder. He vaguely wondered whether it had calmed down back in Carnutes or had stayed the same. How extensive was the damage? And was everyone alright? As of that moment, he didn't know.

Getafix was positive he was no longer in Carnutes. He felt relieved to be away from the chaotic disaster that had once been his home, but he also felt a nearly overwhelming urge to turn around and head back...but not tonight. Druids may be remarkable people, but they still get tired, sore, and cold, just like anyone else would. And Getafix was no exception. His white robe was soaked through, sticking wetly to his skin in a most uncomfortable manner. His beard and thick eyebrows were heavy with water, furthering his misery as it dripped into his eyes and trickled down his face. It was rather chilly for a summer day...At least, he thought it was day. It was so dark and stormy it could well have been nighttime for all he knew. Again Getafix wondered how long and far he had traveled, and whether he had indeed gone in the right direction; Northwest as he had planned.

Sighing in frustration and exhaustion, the druid leaned against the oak's trunk and slid down to a sitting position at its base. He was very tired, and starting to feel chilled. The water running down the inside of his clothes made him shiver even more than he already was. He took a hand and ran it through his beard, attempting to squeeze the precipitation from it. It didn't really do much. He still looked uncommonly like a half-drowned forest creature. With another sigh, Getafix slowly let his weary eyelids droop. He felt like he had run for miles...and maybe he had. His legs were achy and, to his surprise, covered in cuts and bruises. Probably from his mad dash through the collapsing tunnels of Carnutes. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he was quite sore in several places, most notably his back, where he suddenly remembered having had a large stone hit him during his escape. He mentally went over his body as he sat reclined beneath the tree, checking to make sure there was no permanent damage. He discovered only that he was mostly bruised, but otherwise alright, much to his relief. He relaxed, letting the soreness and tense muscles return to a less unbearable state. He might have fallen asleep; he was pretty sure he had dozed, but he all at once became aware of a soft sound. At first, he thought it was water dripping off the leaves above him, or some small animals trying to seek shelter in the bushes, but as the little sound continued, it became more and more recognizable.

It was the sound of someone crying.

Pushing himself to his aching feet, Getafix stood perfectly still, trying to determine from where the noise was coming. It was hard, with all the sounds of rain and wind, but after a short time Getafix determined that it was coming from the bushes to his left. Sneaking forward carefully, and still very wary after all he had been through the past twenty-four hours, Getafix gently parted the foliage to get a look at whoever was sniffling behind them. What he saw melted his heart at once.

There, sitting in a puddle and looking terribly dejected and miserable, was a little boy. His bright red hair was muddy and unkempt, starting to slip from the two little braids that lined either side of his face. He was dressed in a pine green tunic, his little stomach protruding just a tad, implying that he was one who enjoyed a good meal. His pants were designed with vertical stripes of dark and light purple, and his little feet were bare. The child's hands were curled into fists, thrust into his eyes as he cried his little heart out, looking the very image of despair. The boy didn't even see Getafix until the druid gave a light cough.

The child jumped harshly, eyes opening wide as he jerked his head up and noticed the stranger for the first time. He scrambled to his feet, and Getafix suddenly had a tiny wooden sword pointed toward his face.

"Who are you?!" the boy shouted, brandishing his 'weapon' menacingly. All traces of his tears had disappeared and had been replaced with a mask of stubborn fearlessness. His fierce little face was anything but; looking almost comical in its seriousness. From his accent and speech, Getafix realized that he had traveled further then he had thought. This boy was undoubtedly a Gaul.

Getafix stepped through the bushes to get closer and a small shadow of fear flitted across the child's face. "Stay where you are!" he cried, taking a step back himself. "My dad's the chief of our village! He's the boss! So...so if you hurt me he's gonna get you for it!" He flinched back as if he expected the druid to attack him anyway.

Getafix gave a kindly chuckle, trying to allay the boy's fears. "Me? Hurt you? Nonsense. I'm not in the habit of injuring little boys that I find deep in a forest during a downpour." He gave the boy a smile. "And besides, I am unarmed. So...can we be friends and talk, or are you going to run me through?" He looked down at the toy sword that only reached up to his stomach in the boy's hand.

The child seemed to hesitate, lowering the weapon just a bit. He tilted his head to the side, like a puppy might do. "Mom says not to talk to strangers," he answered dutifully. That seemed to refortify his suspicious nature, and he readjusted his arm so that the sword returned to its original position against the druid's middle.

Getafix rested a hand against his chin, as if in deep contemplation. The boy watched him curiously, his misery obviously forgotten now that he wasn't alone. "Ah," Getafix said at last, as if coming to a great realization. "You're mother meant _normal, everyday _strangers."

"You're not a normal, everyday stranger?" the child asked.

Getafix shook his head, his beard flapping wetly from side to side. "No. I'm a druid."

"A druid?"

"A man who knows magic, and spells, and medicine."

The boy suddenly became very thoughtful, this time lowering the sword all the way down to his side. "Mom never said nothing about talking to druids..." He gave Getafix a smile. "I guess it'll be alright if we talk a bit. But I'm real busy, so not too long."

Getafix nodded in understanding, even though he couldn't even begin to guess at what the boy had been 'busy' doing. "That sounds reasonable. Here, let's start from the beginning." Holding out his wrinkled hand, the druid introduced himself. "My name is Getafix. I come from the Forest of Carnutes, far away from here. I had to leave for...for important reasons." He had been going to explain all about Mastix and the absolute nightmare he had been through, but then remembered that he was addressing a child and had quickly changed his mind.

The boy grasped Getafix's large hand with his small one, looking all business as he gave the limb a firm shake. "My name is Vitalstitistix. I live in a village right over..." he glanced around him, a shadow of worry entering his expression. He turned back to Getafix, trying his best to hide his concern. "...nearby," he finished. From the boy's appearance and apparent distress, Getafix finally pieced the puzzle together.

The kid was lost.

But, of course, Getafix knew the child would never _admit_ to being lost. Not this little fellow. His very stance implied he was a very stubborn and tenacious young lad; viciously guarding his pride and dignity; even if he didn't always quite succeed. Getafix knew he'd have to come up with some way of figuring out where the boy lived and getting him back home. Not to mention that Getafix needed a place to stay the night. One could get terribly sick standing about in a downpour like this, and though Getafix had a spell for that, he didn't really feel like working any magic any time soon. Especially after what had happened back in Carnutes.

Rubbing his hands against his own arms, Getafix gave a shiver that was only half-faked. "Brrr. Pretty chilly, isn't it." He saw Vitalstitistix give an involuntary shudder and a nod. "How about you showing me to your village so that I can ask your father if I might spend the night. I have traveled a long way and I can't very well keep going without some rest."

Vitalstitistix looked panicked for a moment, knowing his tiny pride was at stake. "Oh, um...yeah..." His eyes suddenly lit up as an idea struck him. "But I'm going to need your...er, parti...partici-"

"Participation. Oh? How so?" Getafix tried hard to keep the amused smile off his face. He was really beginning to like this little boy.

"I want to play a game."

"A...game?"

"Yes. I'm not going to tell you where the village is." Vitalstitistix crossed his little arms over his chest and looked up into the druid's face triumphantly.

Getafix didn't have to fake a frown this time. "Why not?"

"Because that's part of the game," the boy huffed impatiently. "You've got to find the village. I'll give you a hint and you've got to find it."

Getafix let himself smile at that. The child was really quite clever. His little 'game' would ensure that they got to the village, but without Vitalstitistix having to admit that he didn't have a clue where it was. Quite clever. "I suppose I wouldn't mind giving it a try." He noticed the relief in the child's eyes.

"Yay!...Er, I mean, alright. Here's your first clue." Vitalstitistix stood dramatically, as though what he would say next would be the greatest revelation of all time. "You must find a big, ugly rock shaped like a wild boar!" He smiled up at the druid, taking Getafix's hand as he began to hop excitedly. "Go on, go on; find it!"

"Hmmm. A big, ugly rock shaped like a boar, eh?" Getafix rubbed his chin again. "Well, let's see what we can do." He headed off into the forest with the little boy in tow.

Sometime later, the duo stood in front of a rock that did, in fact, look uncommonly like a boar. A very large, mossy boar. It had taken longer than Getafix had thought it would to find it. They had traipsed back and forth through the trees, searching until Getafix was certain that even he was lost. When the large boulder finally came into view, Vitalstitistix had let go of his hand and run forward, clapping in excitement.

"Youfoudit!Youfoundit!Youfoundit!" he chanted, jumping about energetically. "Now!" His face took on that dramatic expression once more. "You must find an old, rotten tree! It should be somewhere..." he glanced from side to side, then pointed to the right. "That way!" He grabbed the druid's hand once again, though this time _he_ led the way rather than Getafix. He obviously knew where he was going now and no longer had any need for playing his 'game'. Other than to cover up the fact that he had ever been lost in the first place.

A short while afterward, Getafix spotted a series of smokey billows raising above the trees. As they drew nearer, the druid realized that the dark streaks of fog were coming from a collection of small chimneys that rose from a little village of thatched roof cottages. The village was just outside the border of the forest, with a dirt path leading up to a gate in the log wall that surrounded the little community. Despite the dense fog, Getafix thought he caught a glimpse of the sea beyond the it. Warm glows emitted from the windows of several huts, giving the whole place a very safe, homey atmosphere. It was quite the welcoming sight.

"I found it!" Vitalstitistix shouted in joy, forgetting very quickly to hide the fact that he had been lost. He started dragging Getafix forward, babbling away about how he had known exactly where the village all the time and that he was just testing the druid's problem solving skills. Getafix let him. There was no reason to dispute with the child. It really didn't matter. And besides, all children need some fantasies.

As they started their way toward the village, the two suddenly became aware of a second group of persons heading in the same direction, parallel to their own course. They were many more in number, and had just emerged from the forest as well, just further down the border from where Getafix and Vitalstitistix had. When the group noticed the duo, they changed their direction, heading their way.

"Uh oh..." Vitalstitistix said softly, seeming to shrink in on himself.

"What?" Getafix asked nervously. He was uncertain whether they should stand and wait for the newcomers or run and hide. "Who are they?"

Vitalstitistix's fearless mask melted into one of misery once more. "It's my dad; the chief of our village. He's going to be mad..."

Getafix felt relieved. Of course. Now that he wasn't so tense he could see that one fellow, who was leading the group toward them, looked very similar to the boy. He had that same, bright red hair, tufting out from beneath a double black and white winged helmet. He had a thick, red mustache to match. He wore a blue tunic over a pair of orange and yellow checkered pants. To top the whole getup off was a sword belted to his side and a short, red cape buckled about his neck with a round, golden clasp. Getafix also noticed that, like his son, the chief was bare-footed.

When the assembly finally reached them, the Chief strutted forward with a purpose, sending Getafix a suspicious glance and his son a frustrated glare. "Young man," he addressed the boy, "You have got a _lot_ of explaining to do!"

"I'm sorry, Dad," the child responded weakly, not raising his eyes to meet his father's.

The Chief huffed in frustration. "You've been missing for the past three hours; your mother's been sick with worry; I've been out in this weather searching for you; _and_ you turn up in the company of some stranger. And all you can say is you're sorry?" His voice was stern, but not malevolent. Behind it Getafix sensed a loving father. Though, at the moment, a very _angry_, loving father.

"We are going to have a long talk when we get home; and I don't doubt your mother will want to get her words worth in as well." He looked back at the group of miserably soaked men behind him. "Semiautomatix, take my son home while I tend to this fellow." He gave a nod in Getafix's direction. "The rest of you can go back to your homes."

Vitalstitistix gave Getafix a sorrowful glance before turning and following his designated escort back toward the village. The rest of the men went as well, leaving Getafix alone with the Chief. The fellow turned to address the druid directly.

"I guess you're the one I'm to thank for bringing my son home," he said; though, somehow, he made it sound more like an accusation than a thanks. He raised an eyebrow at Getafix's unusual garb. "You some kind of hermit?"

"No," Getafix said kindly, "I'm a druid."

"A druid?" The Chief tilted his head and Getafix almost burst out laughing. He looked just like his son when Vitalstitistix had responded exactly the same way. Or maybe it was that Vitalstitistix was so much like his father.

"Yes. You know; I perform spells, magic, and medicine." When the Chief became thoughtful, as his son had, Getafix felt a sense of deja vu as the words left his lips. Yes, the apple never _did_ fall far from the tree. Indeed the father and his son were very much alike.

"Need a place to stay the night?"

"Actually; yes."

"Perhaps we can use your services too."

"Oh?" Getafix inquired. "In what way?"

"We are in need of some medicinal...assistance," the Chief said carefully, as if he really didn't want to be the one to ask. "There are two women in our village, both of whom are with...ah, child." He seemed rather embarrassed to talk about such a delicate subject. It was a discussion he would have rather left to his wife, or one of the other women in the village. Chiefs didn't go around talking about the arriving population of newborns, unless of course, it was their own. At least, this was how the Chief saw it.

"At the same time?" Getafix asked, surprised. That was rather an interesting coincidence. It wasn't every day that a village was blessed with two infants within a few months of each other. Unless it was a very large village, which this one was not.

The Chief nodded.

Getafix scratched his chin. "I'm sure I can have a look at them. There's nothing wrong with them is there?" He feared from the Chieftain's behavior that perhaps there had been some unforeseen complication of some sorts. If that was the case, there was little Getafix could do to help them.

"Oh, no," the Chief said quickly. "It's just that, well, we have no way of telling if everything _is_ going alright, you know? And the husbands are getting a little fidgety. Driving us all up the wall; if you see what I mean." He gave a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Getafix let himself laugh too. "I do."

"Then it's a deal?" The Chief held out his hand in a friendly manner and Getafix gave it a firm shake. The druid didn't have the heart to tell the fellow that he would have taken a look at the women even without getting something in return. Druids were meant to help others. It was almost like an unspoken law. Not to mention that Getafix was a pushover when it came to women and children. Not that he had had much contact with them over the years, living in Carnutes; but once in a while the druids would receive young, new students donated by their parents to become druids themselves. The mothers would cry as they handed over their sons for a worthier cause; it had always broken Getafix's heart whenever he saw it.

"Alright, then follow me, Druid, and we'll get you something warm to wear and something hot to eat." He turned and headed for the village, Getafix walking beside him all the way. It was still raining heavily, though Getafix felt that it had lightened up a tad since he had found Vitalstitistix.

The village was a very peaceful, calming place; even in the midst of a drenching downpour. The pale, tan dirt path entered through the gate and then branched off among the little homes. The cottages where mostly made of stacked gray stones with thatched roofs of either hay or sticks. Stone chimneys rose above them, tendrils of smoke curling lazily into the sky. To Getafix, the sight was foreign; having lived underground for most of his life. Not that he didn't know what a normal, above ground house looked like, but it had been a while since he had seen one. A very long while.

The paths were devoid of people; all the Gaulish inhabitants being safe and dry within their homes. The Chief made his way along the street, chattering all the time. "I'll let you come stay at my place for the night. The best of the best for our guest, you could say. We'll get you something to eat; how does a nice boar sound? And something to drink; perhaps some fine wine, eh?"

"Actually," Getafix interrupted gently, "How about I look at those two women you mentioned; if it's convenient. Otherwise I'll just be getting dry only to be going back out into this deluge."

The Chief wasn't exactly sure what a deluge was, but he agreed wholeheartedly with the druid nonetheless. "Fantastic idea! I'll show you the way. We'll stop at Astronomix and Sarsaparilla's house first. It's closer." With that he marched forward into what looked like the village square. Then he turned down a path to his left; Getafix following as they made their way toward a small cottage with a medium sized tree beside it. The place was one of the several houses that had a stick roof rather than one of hay.

Coming up to the cottage's wooden half door, the Chief gave a couple raps in quick secession. There was a moment of silence before an anxious "I'm coming!" reached their ears. A second after, the door opened to reveal perhaps the shortest man Getafix had ever seen. The fellow was only about a head taller than Vitalstitistix; barely coming up to Getafix's chest. His hair, which was a dark blond hue, was short, just visible under a helmet that he wore on his head. The helmet itself was adorned with long, curved horns, resembling something more of a Viking design. His fashion sense was a little different than most of the Gauls Getafix had seen so far. The man's tunic was a faded greenish-yellow color, sleeveless, and strapped around his waste with a belt. All this was over a pair of pure white pants and, unlike his Chieftain, sported light brown shoes on either foot.

The fellow seemed stressed; agitated. Dark circles under his eyes told that he had not been sleeping well lately. But, despite his obvious exhaustion, the man greeted them kindly, even giving Getafix a friendly smile. "What can I do for you, Chief?"

"Astronomix, this elderly man is a druid. He practices medicine. I thought that-"

"Why?! Is there something wrong?!" The short Gaul looked terrified out of his wits. His hands were flung out at his side as though trying to regain his balance. "Is there something wrong with the pregnancy?!"

The Chief gave Getafix an exasperated look, as if to say 'see what I mean'. He motioned for the frightened father to calm down. "No, no, Astronomix! It's nothing of the kind!" He sighed in frustration. "I just thought maybe he could take a look at Sarsaparilla and give you some peace of mind. And the rest of us can get some respite from your worrying." The last part of his sentence had been muttered under his breath, and Getafix was the only one to hear it.

"Oh...ah, yeah, sure. That would be great," Astronomix replied, trying to calm his pounding heart. "Obeliscoidix and Vanilla are here too. Perhaps you could look at my friend's wife as well, Mr. Druid?" He turned hopeful eyes toward Getafix. He was still terribly agitated, but that was normal for an expecting father.

"Of course. That would be no problem at all," the druid replied kindly.

"Well," the Chief huffed as he began to inch away from the conversation, "I will leave you to your work, Druid. I have a rather wayward son to go give a talking to. Astronomix, would you mind showing our guest to my hut when he is finished here?"

"I will, Chief."

With that, the leader of the village turned around with a swish of his cape and departed, heading home to deal with a nervously awaiting Vitalstatistix. His feet made squishing sounds in the muddy earth and as he disappeared around the corner, the sound was audible far longer than the Chief remained visible. The noise completely robbed the man of the dignity he had been so desperately trying to present. It almost made Getafix laugh.

Astronomix was fidgeting nervously; wringing his hands in front of him as he watched the Chief disappear from sight. Getafix watched the short fellow with a kind, knowing smile.

"This is your first child, isn't it?" Getafix asked, regaining the man's attention.

"What? Oh, yes; yes it is." Astronomix shook his head as if clearing it. "Where are my manners! Please come in out of the rain, Mr. Druid." He opened the half door, motioning the taller, older man inside. Getafix gave a curt nod before entering.

The house was even quainter inside than it had appeared from the outside. There was a wooden table close to the warm, glowing fireplace, along with a few benches and chairs, all hand crafted out of timber. Over the fire, a cauldron of what looked and smelled to be stew sizzled and steamed, filling the air with a wonderful aroma. The atmosphere was calm, despite Astronomix's anxiety. Standing over the bubbling broth stood a beautiful woman. She was quite short; as short as Astronomix at least. She had lovely golden hair which she kept tied in a round bun on the back of her head. The eyes she turned toward them were light and full of kindness. She was adorned in a pink, sleeveless blouse, with a long, flowing, light purple skirt underneath. But the most telling detail was her stomach, which left no doubt in anyone's mind that she was indeed pregnant. _Very_ pregnant.

Astronomix held out a hand toward the woman and she took it, coming to stand beside her husband. "Mr. Druid," Astronomix said, "this is my wife, Sarsaparilla." The woman smiled and gave a little curtsy.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

"And this," Astronomix continued, motioning behind Getafix, "Is my best friend, Obeliscoidix, and his wife, Vanilla."

Getafix turned around to greet the new acquaintances. What he found himself facing, however, nearly made him gasp in shock. Before him was one of the _largest_ men he had ever seen. No; had ever heard of! He was immense, in both height and girth. His long-sleeved, blue tunic barely fit over his tremendous stomach, as did his white pants. It all gave his belly an unnaturally round look; almost like a giant, deep bottomed cauldron with two, short, spindly legs. He too, like his friend, wore a pair of light brown shoes and a helmet. His head cover, however, was rather too small for his size. It was a silver helmet adorned with small white wings that perked up on either side. They stood stiffly; erect, never moving. His hair was red, just like the Chief's, and he had a frazzled red mustache to match it.

Beside the giant stood a rather large woman, at least in comparison to Sarsaparilla. Next to her husband she was petite and womanly. She had a kind, round face, framed by two long braids of red-orange hair. Each braid was decorated with a black bow. She had a prominent chin and nose, but she certainly wasn't unattractive. She fit snugly into an outfit not all that unlike Sarsaparilla's, only in different colors. Here blouse, which was sleeveless, was a light green, almost yellow, and her skirt was a creamy white. She too was quite obviously expecting an addition to their family very soon as well.

Recovering from his shock, Getafix gave a friendly nod. "A pleasure. Now, your chief says that you might be in need of my services. Perhaps in giving you women a little checkup, so to speak, to ensure that all is well with your children and their upcoming birth?" The four other persons in the room seemed to sag with relief at his words.

Vanilla folded her hands over her stomach and gave him a shy smile. "That would be very helpful to us, Sir," she said carefully. "We've been rather worried you see."

"Any particular reason why, may I ask?"

"Well, no," Sarsaparilla spoke up, "It's just that it's our first and, if there's something wrong..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence. Getafix gave her an encouraging smile.

"My dear woman, I am sure all is well. All parents are anxious with their first child; it is nothing to worry about. But, to put your minds at ease, I can take a look, if you want." Both the women and the men concluded that they would indeed.

For the next half hour, Getafix inspected the women. He told them to breath deeply, and perform various, seemingly unrelated tasks, at least to a non-druid. But, despite their confusion, the women did as they were told without question. Astronomix and Obeliscoidix stayed close, but not so much as to get in the druid's way. They appeared both nervous and curious, watching as Getafix asked various questions and made comments, all good, on their health. Finally, after having performed every appropriate examination, Getafix finished by laying his weathered hand on each of the women's stomachs; with their permission of course. He concentrated, somehow being able to tell the child's state with that gentle touch. He smiled, calling the husband's forward and laying their hands on their wives' protruding bellies. Both men gave a gasp of surprise and joy as they each felt a tiny kick from within.

Getafix sat back, watching their reaction with kind amusement. "You both will have a beautiful, healthy child. There is nothing wrong that I can foresee. You are both strong, healthy women, and I see no evidence that they won't come on time."

"How soon?" Astronomix breathed, his hand still pressed gently against Sarsaparilla's stomach.

"Any day now. Their birthdays will be quite close, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe, a day apart?"

"Boy or girl?" Vanilla asked hopefully.

Getafix smiled. "That is something I cannot tell, madam. Man does not yet have the technology to determine such a thing. Even magic cannot solve all the mysteries in this world." He yawned, the exhaustion from before coming back to him quite suddenly. "Now, if it's alright with you four, I think it's time I returned to the Chief. I am staying the night in his cottage. I have had quite a tiring day."

"Oh, yes of course," Astronomix said, quickly leaving his wife's side to escort the druid toward the door. "I'll walk you there."

"Thank you, Mr. Druid," Vanilla said gratefully, easing herself up from her chair.

Sarsaparilla gently followed her example. "Yes, thank you! If there's anything we can do for you, just let us know."

Their guest gave a kind smile. "Well, there is one thing..."

"Yes?"

"Call me Getafix. Mr. Druid makes me feel so...old."

**...**

**Wow! I think that's my longest chapter to date! Well, there you go, a look into the life of the village before Asterix, as well as some of Getafix's first meetings. It's a lot of fun writing for characters, like Vitalstatistix, when they were children. But there'll be more of that in the next chapter...**

**NOTE: I realized today that their was already a character in the Asterix universe who was named Prolix. He was the creepy soothsayer from "Asterix and the Soothsayer". I just wanted to say that the druid Prolix that I created is in no way related or based on the soothsayer. They just so happen to share the same name. :)**


	6. The Birth of Asterix

Getafix awoke with a gasp. He sat up in a panic, not remembering where he was. A look of terror was pasted on his pale face and his eyes were wide in fear. Slowly, very slowly, his memories of the previous day came back to him. He remembered meeting the little boy in the woods, meeting his father the Chief, and visiting with some of the friendly Gauls in the village. He remembered returning to the Chief's home and being fed and given warm clothes and a warm bed. That was where he was now. In the bedroom they had let him stay in. He felt himself relax, finally coming fully to reality.

He had had a nightmare.

He couldn't remember exactly what he had dreamed about, but whatever it had been had left him shaking and breathing heavily. It was a shadow in his mind; dark, ominous, and frightening. Like the dark silhouette of some great beast lurking somewhere in a black fog. He had felt trapped, that much he remembered. Trapped and weak. Scared. Just as he had felt when Mastix had attacked Prolix, he had been helpless against...something; something strong and evil. Wicked and raging with a dark hatred.

Getafix sat panting for a moment, willing his mind to except the fact that it had all been nothing more than a nightmare. It wasn't too hard to do. The bright sunlight that streamed through the window into the upstairs bedroom of the Gualish Chief's hut was a shocking contrast to his nighttime terrors. The air was sweet with the smell of the summer world outside; fresh grass and fragrant flowers. It gave everything a sort of golden glow, that warmed your heart the moment it reached you. Getafix was calmed by the sight, and quickly regained his composure.

Whatever he had dreamed was more than likely the leftover trauma of the events in Carnutes. He knew that would pass with time, and he looked forward to the day that it would. Druids didn't normally dream. Oh, they had visions from time to time, or perhaps they would feel inclined to do some odd task or another for no apparent reason; but they very rarely dreamed. Especially nightmares. Getafix couldn't even remember the last time he had had one...When he was five maybe? It was a strange occurrence; one that Getafix felt he was in no state of mind to deal with at the moment. And so, as quickly as he could, he pushed the issue from his mind.

Disentangling himself from the warm, woolen blankets, Getafix placed his bare feet onto the wooden beamed floor and stood. His back was still sore, where the falling rock had hit him, but most of his other bruises seemed to be healing nicely. Stretching out the kinks that had settled in his muscles, he gave a yawn. Looking about, he found that the Chief's wife had already washed and dried his robe, setting it neatly folded on a stool in the corner. Getafix was very appreciative. He wasn't used to the odd clothing of non-druid folk. Not to mention he looked silly in the bright colored garbs with his long white beard and thin legs. With a silent thanks to the Gaulish woman, he quickly changed back into his normal regalia. After running a hand through his frazzled beard, Getafix descended the wooden ladder down to the first level of the hut.

"Well, look who decided to wake up," a loud voice called, despite the fact that the speaker was quite close. Getafix winced at the shout and gave a curt nod to the lady of the house.

"Good morning, Madam. Have I overslept?"

"Darn right you did! It's almost late morning!" She appeared to be punching a lump of dough by the table, probably making some bread for later that day. The Chief's wife was by no means a small woman. Her stout body and large, thick arms made her personality all the more intimidating. She was a very strong-willed lady, Getafix had found. He had seen her match wits against her husband over trivial matters, even though he had only met her last night. She had a voice like a trumpet; loud and strong. Her mouth was of considerable size. Of course, it had to be in order for her to yell the way she always seemed to.

She was dressed much like all the other Gaulish women Getafix had met thus far. She sported a yellow, sleeveless blouse with a red skirt, all of which were made of a considerable amount of fabric. A large white apron covered nearly her whole front, taking the brunt of the flour she was getting all over herself. She wore earrings; loops that dangled and caught the sunlight that found its way into the room. Her hair was just as red as both her son and her husband, which made it quite obvious that they were indeed related. Though, one had to wonder, when Vitalstitistix was so different in temperament than his mother.

The Chief sat nearby in a woven-seated chair, looking miserable; his feet planted firmly in a large basin of hot water. His helmet was hanging by the knob on the back of his perch, looking uncommonly like a large black and white butterfly resting on a upside-down bowl of steal. The Chief gave the druid a look that Getafix interpreted as a plea for help.

"Are you unwell, Chief?" Getafix asked, concerned.

The man opened his mouth to answer, but his wife beat him to it. "He went and caught a cold, traipsing about bare-footed in a storm! Pft! The very idea! Now he's gotten what he deserves." She gave the lump on the table another violent whack and again the Chief sent the druid a sorrowful look. But the Gaul seemed to try to regain his dignity by starting up a conversation of his own.

"So, Druid, how long will you be staying among us?" he asked. His voice sounded comically stuffy, adding to his pathetic appearance.

"I think I will be leaving by late this afternoon," Getafix concluded. He knew the Venerable Druid wouldn't approve, but he desperately wanted to return back to Carnutes. His disturbed night's sleep hadn't helped his nerves, and had actually made him more eager than ever to go home. He figured that if he left by late day he should make it back by the following morning. Even that wasn't soon enough for his taste.

The Chief looked slightly disappointed. It couldn't be very often that the village got any visitors, it being so secluded and all. He brightened again, however, when he realized that the druid's departure would give him reason to help. "Ah, very well, Druid. I shall make sure that you are well supplied with food and water by then. In the mean ti...ti...t-ACHOO!" He sneezed violently, feet kicking up and spraying the floor with steaming water. His wife sent him a glare that could have curdled milk.

"And there he goes!" she declared, stomping forward to pour more water into the basin. "And all because he doesn't have the sense to wear shoes!"

Getafix was about to offer his assistance, but the lady of the house tossed him an apple for his breakfast and told him that lunch would be ready in a few hours. She then turned back to her loafing, beating the living daylights out of the lump of dough, kicking up large, billowing clouds of flour. Getafix took that as permission to leave, and quickly scooted out the door, glad that it was the dough rather than him at the end of those fists.

The warmth of the sun that beat down on his back was a merciful change from the dark, cold rain of the previous night. Getafix walked along the various paths within the quaint little village. He came across a number of persons, all of whom were unbelievably friendly. Most of the villagers had learned of the druid's arrival and, either out of curiosity or kindness, they sought him out to welcome him. Many talked with him at length; no one was in such a hurry that they couldn't find time to chat. It filled Getafix with a different kind of warmth.

Strolling down a particular path, Getafix came across young Vitalstitistix, who was standing on top of a cauldron lid, carried by two other little boys. He wore a pot on top of his head like a helmet; the type of cookware that has holes in the bowl to drain various vegetables. Vitalstitistix was surrounded by a group of other young children, both boys and girls, riveting them with a loud daring tale of the previous night's adventures. As Getafix stopped to listen, he found that the child remembered their meeting quite differently.

"...And he says to me that he's lost," Vitalstitistix was boasting, puffing out his little chest. "And I says to him I says, 'I know the way'. So I brought him to my dad. My dad says to me, he says, 'You're a hero, Vitalstitistix! Well done!'"

Some of the little girls fluttered their eyelashes at him in awe. Even some of the other boys seemed impressed...But not all of them.

"How would a magic man get lothed in the woodth?" One piped up with a frown. He had a very notable lisp that caused spit to fly in every direction. He leaned on a small, wooden toy mallet, which he seemed to treasure and kept quite close to his side. He was shirtless, with little red pants and small brown shoes. Around his waist and covering his chest was a dark, leather apron, designed in a manner that brought to mind a smith, or possibly a shoemaker. His semi-long, bright blond hair curled up in a wave behind his back, appearing to be quite unruly. "He'th magic!" he boy insisted stubbornly, "He can't get lothed!"

Vitalstitistix sent the speaker a fierce scowl, but otherwise ignored the child's comment.

"Is he really magic?" One of the other boys asked timidly. He was slightly smaller than most of the other lads. He was dressed in a blue and white-checkered tunic with white pants. The blue in the fabric matched well with his clear blue eyes and light blond hair.

Vitalstitistix looked down at the inquirer with barely concealed disdain. "Of course he's magic, Cacofonix! He told me he was himself!"

The smaller boy backed down immediately, muttering an apology under his breath. He moved to stand a little further away from the group, hoping to go unnoticed and that his question would quickly be forgotten.

At this point, Getafix decided to come forward and make himself known. "Good morning, Vitalstitistix," he greeted, coming up behind the child. The druid had to fight to keep from laughing as the boy nearly toppled off his perch in surprise.

"Oh! M-Mr. Druid, Sir," he stammered, regaining his balance quickly. "I-I was just telling my friends about you." He looked very uncomfortable, afraid that his stories were about to be proven false right in front of his companions.

Getafix smiled at the children. "Oh? And what are your names?"

The boy with the mallet pushed his way to the front. He seemed suspicious of their visitor, and was intent on making an impression lest the druid prove himself to be a threat. "I'm Fulliautomatixth," he declared, jabbing a thumb into his own chest. "I'm Themiautomatixth'th thon; he'th a blackthmith. He hammerth metal like you wouldn't believe! He'th the throngethed man in the village!" He lisped and sputtered as he spoke, looking extremely proud of his father. He lorded that fact over his companions, sending them a haughty glance over his shoulder.

"That's not true!" Another boy stepped forward, glaring daggers at Fulliautomatix. He was a pudgy, little fellow, dressed in a black, sleeveless tunic, red pants, and no shoes. He too had blond hair, tied into two braids that stuck out behind him like twin tails. He pointed a chubby finger toward the other boy. "Your dad isn't any stronger than anyone elses!" He folded his arms over his chest with a smirk. "Besides, my dad's the strongest."

"WHAT?!" Fulliautomatix squeaked, stepping forward so he and the second child were practically nose to nose. "Your father ithn't even thronger than your mother! All he doeth is thell big, thtinky fish!"

A look of hurt flitted across the other boy's face, before it turned to anger. "Oh, yeah?!" He lifted back a fist, ready to smash the other's teeth in, as did Fulliautomatix, but they were quickly pulled away from one another by strong, old hands.

"I'd rather you didn't fight," Getafix said firmly. His voice was calm; unchanging from its previous tone, but it was very demending and no one wanted to push their luck. Getafix was actually quite concerned about their behavior, and he didn't want to see either of them hurt. He felt a tug on his robe and looked down to find the little boy in the blue and white-checkered tunic looking up at him.

"Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix do that all the time," the child said timidly in explaination, giving Getafix the second boy's name as well.

Getafix smiled and knelt down so he was closer to the boy's level. "And what's your name?"

"Cacofonix," said shyly, but then he seemed to gain some courage. "I'm going to be a bard someday. I'm going to sing odes and sonnets...Would...would you like to hear me sing?" He looked up hopefully into the druid's face with large trusting eyes.

Getafix suddenly noticed the children behind Cacofonix's back. They had all gone terribly pale, as if they had seen a ghost. They were shaking their heads and signing for the druid to say no. Getafix wasn't sure why they would do such a thing. Cacofonix was just a little boy; how bad could he possibly be? Pretending that he hadn't noticed the children's motions, he smiled down at the little one. "It would be a pleasure."

Cacofonix looked just about ready to cry with joy. He brushed himself off of nonexistent dust, pulled his tunic to straighten the winkles and took up the common bard stance. He hesitated, looking up to the druid for conformation, and then opened his little mouth to sing.

The result was the worst sound that Getafix had ever heard. It was as painful to the ears as the sound of grating steel against stone and as loud as a storming gale. The druid wasn't sure whether the boy was yelling, howling, or downright screeching. Despite Getafix's kind nature, he had no choice other than to jam his fingers into his ears, wincing at the offending noise. The children were doing much the same thing; some of the littlest girls had even broken into tears. Some of the more sensitive, or maybe more _sensible_, boys took off at a run to escape the terrible cacophony. Just when it was reaching the point of being absolutely unbearable, an old man came speeding out of his hut waving a T-shaped cane over his head menacingly. He was shouting angrily, but Getafix couldn't hear him over the assaulting sound of painful singing.

Cacofonix saw the old fellow coming though, and broke off his singing at once. He leaped behind Getafix, gripping his robes in an attempt to hide. The other children sighed in relief, some holding a hand to their heads to relieve the headaches they had suddenly gained. The voice of the elderly fellow rushing towards them took center stage now that it was quiet.

"WHERE IS HE?!" he exclaimed, continuing to wave the stick over his head in fast, circulatory motions. His voice was extremely loud, as if he were still trying to be heard over the ruckus. Getafix remained standing where he was, letting Cacofonix use him as a shield. He wasn't sure if this man meant to do the boy harm, and, though Cacofonix's singing was indeed atrocious, he wouldn't allow the boy to be hurt. But Cacofonix stepped slowly out from the white folds of his garb on his own and came to stand sheepishly before the elder.

The old man shook the cane under the child's nose. "Cacofonix, what have we told you about singing in the village?"

Cacofonix turned a little pink. "To not to do it," he said softly.

"And why?"

"Because my voice is too strong and loud...right?"

"Right." The old timer gave a nod and lowered his stick. "If you want to sing, you go into the forest. You got that?"

Cacofonix looked thoroughly chastened. He lowered his eyes to look at his feet. "Yes, Sir."

The man's eyes softened and he gave a gentle chuckle. "Now run along and play before I decide to get in some practice with this stick!" He gave the bard-to-be a light shove toward his friends with a laugh. The joking action brought a smile back to Cacofonix's face as he and his friends started off to go play someplace else. Getafix noted with a smirk how, as they walked away, Fulliautomatix guarded Cacofonix, hammer at the ready lest the boy should decide to give a repeat of his performance.

"He's a good kid, really," the old timer said to Getafix, eyes still tracking the children until they disappeared from sight. Then he turned to the druid with a smile. He was a very small man; just about the same size as Astronomix. He had a large, drooping nose, and a chin that stuck forward, further then most. He had just about the same amount of hair on top of his head as Getafix himself. He didn't have a beard, leaving his chin clean shaven, but he did have a long, white mustache that hung down from beneath his nose. His tunic was a deep, navy blue, over a pair of white pants and brown shoes. He was bent, due to his age, but seemed to buzz with energy despite his vast years. The old man stuck out his hand in a warm gesture. "Geriatrix."

The druid took the hand and gave it a firm shake. "Getafix."

Geriatrix raised a bushy eyebrow. "You're a druid." It was a statement, not a question. He was looking Getafix up and down with a curious eye; taking in his long white beard, white robe, and red cape. He even seemed to take in the druid's blue, sack-like shoes. It was a wonder the old fellow could see anything at all the way he was squinting.

Getafix blinked. "Yes, I am," he answered kindly. Geriatrix was the first Gaul he had come across so far that even knew what a druid was. It came as somewhat of a shock, not having to explain himself for a change. Not that he minded. It was hard to summarize exactly what a druid was; and the words he had used thus far really didn't give the occupation justice. So far, he had been seen as anything between a 'medicine man' to a 'magician' of some sorts. But how else could he describe it to these people? It was like trying to explain a rainbow to a blind man. Of course, that wasn't the case with Geriatrix.

The old fellow nodded, satisfied that he had made the correct assumption. "I could tell by your clothing. You're obviously not Gaul." He paused, thinking deeply before asking, "How goes it in Carnutes?"

The question caught Getafix completely by surprise. He hadn't expected to meet anyone who knew about Carnutes. Since the Forest was off limits to non-druids, it was typically forgotten by the normal folk. That was the way it had been for years. _Many_ years.

"It's been ages since we've had a druid in this village," Geriatrix added, seeming to sense the visitor's bewilderment.

"You had a druid here once before?" Getafix said, taking the chance to change the subject. Such a thing as druids living in villages wasn't unheard of. Getafix could think of several cases in the history of the druids where one would go and live in a town. It was a rarer occurrence these days, since most druids now resided in Carnutes. The men who would leave and stay with normal folk mainly did so because they felt some connection to the people. Often feeling the need to be with them; possibly for aiding the people, or even keeping them safe. But, again, it was very rare these days. Most tended to stick to their spells and scholarly studies, rather than the more vigorous, complicated, and challenging life as a village druid.

"Yes, yes," Geriatrix hummed distractedly. "When I was just a lad. Oh, those were the days, let me tell you! It was the life! Nothing but lovely days, bright and cheerful; not a cloud in the sky. We used to..." He continued into a lengthy narration of his entire life. He spoke of the days long past, when the village was first built and the first few families moved in. He told of how they worked and slaved over every stone of every cottage; how each path was lovingly cut into the unyielding grass. How they fished from the seas and began trade with other villages. Geriatrix said he remembered it all very well; each day and hour as if it were yesterday. He spoke of friends long gone; ancestors to those now living around him.

Getafix listened respectfully as the two went and sat beneath the shade of a nearby tree. He found it all very interesting, whether the tales were true or not. Geriatrix could not possibly be as old as he claimed. If he were, that would make him older than any of the druids in Carnutes. And yet, the old fellow was quite spry. Besides his bend back, whitened hair, and wrinkles, he seemed quite young, at least in spirit. Still, Getafix supposed that Geriatrix was indeed very old; maybe even older than him. But his stories were captivating false or no, and Getafix found himself enjoying the man's company immensely.

Before long, Getafix realized that the sun had nearly reached its zenith; it was almost midday. He remembered the Chief's wife, standing by the table side while beating the large lump of dough. She had told him when lunch would be served, and she hadn't been telling him idly. She expected him to be there _on time_ and hungry; of that the druid was certain. Getafix began to try and wrap up his conversation with Geriatrix, but the old man just kept talking. He didn't seem to take notice of the time of day, nor the uneasy look that had overcome his companion's face. Getafix was just starting to get frustrated enough to actually speak up and say something, when suddenly a loud shout erupted to their right.

"GETAFIX!"

The druid turned, grateful for the distraction, and spotted a very familiar figure running towards him. "Astronomix?" The little Gaul looked even more distressed now than he had the previous night. He was stumbling in their direction, waving his hands and calling the druid's name over and over.

Finally reaching the duo, Astronomix slid to a halt in front of them. He was out of breath, wheezing as he supported his weight on his knees, gasping in gulps of air. But he didn't wait for himself to recover. "Getafix! Please, we need your help! The babies; they're on the way!"

Getafix blinked; surprised. "So soon?!" He had guessed that the children would come 'any day now', but he certainly hadn't meant the _next_ day!

Astronomix nodded vigorously, still trying to catch his breath. "Both Sarsaparilla and Vanilla have gone into labor!"

"BOTH?!" Getafix's eyes practically bugged from his wizened head. That was almost an impossible probability! For both children to come early at exactly the same time! It was a one in a million chance!

Astronomix kept looking over his shoulder, gazing in the direction he had come. He was wringing his hands with nerves. "Obeliscoidix and some of the other women are with them, but we need help! There aren't enough hands!" His eyes were wide with fear. "What if something goes wrong?! What if something happens to one of them! What if-"

Getafix took hold of the man's shoulders, effectively capturing his attention."Astronomix; relax. I know what to do. Lead the way." The certainty in the druid's voice seemed to calm the Gaul down. Getafix only hoped that his own concern wasn't showing. Turning to Geriatrix, Getafix asked if the old man wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the other children. He didn't want one wandering underfoot in the chaos that Getafix knew was soon to take place. Geriatrix agreed and the next instant they were off; the old timer in search of the children and Getafix closely following Astronomix.

Getafix missed lunch. He wasn't even thinking of food. He was too busy dealing with running back and forth between Astronomix's hut and Obeliscoidix's hut. Why both the pregnant women hadn't been put into one cottage was beyond Getafix's knowledge, but it certainly gave him a workout. He ran from one woman's side to the other, giving orders to the few women helpers he had. He told them to fetch warm water and rags, then rushed on to the next task.

Vanilla and Sarsaparilla were doing quite well, taking the surprise arrival with a steady mental stride. They were fine; the two having a problem was Astronomix and Obeliscoidix. The two fathers-to-be scurried about with worry. They were constantly in the way, anxious to see, hear, and understand every little thing that was happening. It got so bad that they started to impede on their progress. Getafix should have had Geriatrix watch the two, full-grown men, never mind the children! Finally finding their inquiries and constant presence a hazard to their success, Getafix ordered the two to be escorted outside.

"Off you go, Astronomix!" a kindly woman said, leading the small Gaul out of his own house. He tried to back peddle, but she had a firm grip on his right shoulder and left elbow. Due to the woman being taller than him made it hard to resist. "This is no place for you! Leave it all to us!"

Only a few houses away, Obeliscoidix was getting the same treatment. He too was being forcibly removed from his cottage, only it took two to move him.

"Do be sensible, Obeliscoidix!" one declared as she pushed him from behind. "You won't be any use in there!"

Both man, thoroughly depressed, wandered to the main path, where they met to bemoan their feelings on the matter. The walked side by side, still looking quite concerned; their arms folded tightly behind their backs as the went along.

"It's galling for a Gaul to be so helpless at a time like this," Astronomix sighed sadly, fixing his worried eyes on the path in front of his feet. "Don't you think, Obeliscoidix?"

The larger Gaul nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Yup...And when I get galled I get hungry!" He looked as if he were planning to carry that comment further when all at once, both men were hit right smack in the face with something cold, wet, and scaly.

SPLATCH!

The surprise and resulting force of the impact nearly knocked Astronomix off his feet. He ran a hand over his stinging cheek as he glanced to the ground to see what had hit him. His friend did the same and they were both confused to find that they had been belted with two large, gray fish. Astronomix gave his companion a puzzled look before bending over to pick up the deceased water creature. He turned it over in his hands, trying to determine from where it had come and why it had been airborne. The sound of loud shouting answered his questions when he looked up and found that the village square was nothing more then a teaming pile of angry Gauls. How the brawl had started, neither he nor Obeliscoidix had any clue, but it was a welcome distraction.

"Follow me!" Astronomix shouted to his friend as he took off, swinging the fish over his head. "This will calm us down!" Obeliscoidix's thundering steps sounded behind him and, together, they entered the fray.

It was just the activity they needed to get their minds off the events at hand. It felt wonderful to release all that pent up energy; the nerves and anxieties. The rolling mass of men kicked up dust into the clear, afternoon sky; punching, kicking, biting, and slapping with raw fish. It was really very childish; but somehow, for Astronomix and Obeliscoidix, it was just what they needed. Unhealthix and Semiautomatix were dueling it out with fish, hitting and grabbing like a couple of school boys. The Chief wasn't any better. He was swinging an enormous swordfish, knocking opponents right off their feet as they were slugged by the monstrous creature. Even Geriatrix was in on the fight, standing on the outskirts of the teaming cloud of fists and dirt, hitting any limb that came into view with the tip of his cane.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" he was barking angrily, "Fighting in front of your children!"

No one listened, however. Whatever problem had started the whole mess was, by now, completely forgotten. All that remained was the thrill of the fight and the challenge of dodging out of the way of one another's blow. While the men were pretty rough, the extent of their attacks were no more than bruises and a few black eyes. Even Astronomix and Obeliscoidix failed to avoid all the fists and feet. But still, it was better than the anxiety of before. It was a release of tension; an avenue of letting loose all the pent up emotions.

Who knows how long the fight may have lasted, if not for a voice that suddenly bellowed to their right, sounding both shocked and angry. "STOP THAT! THIS IS NO DAY FOR VULGAR BRAWLS!" Freezing and turning toward the voice, the assembly of men saw Getafix the druid, standing not ten yards away, with two infant babes held gently in his arms. The druid gave the two little bundles of joy a smile. "Let's congratulate the happy fathers of these two newborn Gauls instead!"

After what had seemed like hours, Getafix had finally been rewarded for all his work with Sarsaparilla and Vanilla. Shortly after the fathers had left, the babies had arrived, at exactly the same moment. Getafix was in awe of how rare an event it was that two children should be born the same year; same day; same hour; same minute; and the same _second_! He was pretty sure that such an occurrence had never before been recorded; maybe that was because it had never taken place before! He had been with Sarsaparilla when it happened, while one of the other women managed with Vanilla. Both births went off without a hitch and, babes in hand, Getafix had carefully walked out to find the new fathers.

He was surprised; no shocked, to find that the entire village seemed to have gone completely mad. They were all fighting away, completely unaware of the druid's presence. That was when Getafix had yelled. And now, they were all blinking at him, stunned into silence by the two little bundles in his arms. There was a moment of quiet, before it was broken by a joyful shout.

"I have a son!" Astronomix cried happily.

"Me too!" Obeliscoidix chorused.

Both fathers ran forward, arms wide. Getafix handed them their newborn children, smiling at the pure joy and love that shown in their eyes.

Astronomix held his little boy above his head. The babe was so small compared to Obeliscoidix's own. He was very light; almost as easy to hold as lifting a feather. His little eyes were closed, but the child's face was lit up in a smile. A little tuft of bright yellow hair on top of his head showed that the boy had inherited his mother's golden locks. The baby was holding on to his father's hand ever so softly as he was lifted above the Gaul's head.

"His name is Asterix!" Astronomix declared for all to hear, "And he'll be as big and strong as his dad!"

"Mine is called Obelix!" Obeliscoidix joined, holding his child aloft as well. "And he'll be as shrewd and cunning as his father!" The babe in his arm babbled in glee. He was a heavy child; solid and sturdily built like his father. The resemblance was striking between the man and his newborn son. The child even had his fathers bright red hair.

"Born at the same time and on the same day, by Toutatis," Getafix chuckled. The fathers lowered their sons and Getafix took the hand of each child and brought them together in front of him. "It's a sign that they'll be best friends forever."

The two fathers gave their new family members a loving smile. Their hearts were filled with a peace and joy they had never felt before. As if they were a part of these little miracles, or the babies were apart of them. Their line would be carried on through them. They were special; both of them, and the fathers could feel that, without a doubt, that Getafix's prediction would be true.

Getafix too had felt it. The strange, close connection between the two children. As if they were supposed to be side by side; like the moon belonged beside the stars. But it was more than that. There was something else. Something darker... As Getafix had held each babe's hand, he had felt a strange feeling sweep over him. A sort of...he wasn't even sure what. An emotion? A feeling? Followed by an intense wave of dangerous foreboding. It only lasted a second, but it was sufficient enough to take Getafix's breath away. He managed to hide his surprise and distress. As he spoke the blessing, he carefully lifted his hand from Obeliscoidix's child, and the feeling didn't return. He tried it with Astronomix's son, and still there was no surge of mysterious awareness to anything abnormal. But the druid _had _felt it; he was certain. One of the children was more than they appeared to be, but which one was undeterminable.

But that feeling of danger; that foreboding shadow that had all at once flashed in Getafix's mind; what had that been? What did it mean? Getafix didn't know. But, at the moment, another feeling was growing in his soul. A strong feeling; one that even overpowered his desperation to return to Carnutes. A strong need...to stay in the village. But why? He didn't know. But it had something to do with one of these children. He was certain it wasn't both of them. The sensation had left him with that notion. He _had_ to stay; he _needed_ to stay. And as he gazed down at the two babes in their fathers' arms, Getafix decided he _would _stay.

And stay he did.

The villagers were more than happy to accept him into their community. He became a sort of adviser to them, as well as a doctor, a council member, and a great friend. Years passed, and the children began to grow up. They grew into fine, young men and women, becoming closer to Getafix than their parents had ever been. They all had very defined characteristics, almost like caricatures of themselves, and there were many days that they brought a chuckle and a smile to the druid.

Getafix's skill in magic and potions grew, making him one of the most well know druids of his time. Through intense study and persistence, Getafix eventually created his magnum opus, the Magic Potion. It had the power to grant anyone who drank it inhuman strength for short periods of time; and through the years it saved the village from many a foe. The Romans were starting to take over the land, and soon no other Gaulish villages remained besides their own. They were constantly a target; but they became and remained, what others called, the indomitable Gauls.

Through those years, Getafix kept an eye on the two babes he had helped to deliver. Obelix grew to be of immense size, just like his father. His already impressive strength was enhanced dramatically, since, as a child, the boy had accidentally fallen into a cauldron of Magic Potion. Obelix was blessed with permanent superhuman strength. The large Gaul was kindhearted and caring, though not terribly bright. He was a friend to all and greatly liked, though his closest companion had always been, and always would be, Asterix.

Asterix had grown to look almost exactly like his father. He was the same height and build as his elder, and had many of the same mannerisms. Asterix had been quite the little adventurer when he was little, and that didn't change as he became an adult. He later took the position, to Getafix's surprise, of village warrior, and the druid could think of no one more qualified. Asterix was brave and good-hearted, a combination rare in most men.

Time continued to pass, and as the years seemed to fly by, Getafix began to forget the reason he had decided to stay in the little, Gaulish village. He forgot about that dark, frightening feeling he had felt all that long time ago. Carnutes was restored and the druids returned to their homes. Getafix visited them from time to time, and soon, much of what had happened there was also forgotten...Mastix was forgotten. Everything returned to normal; no, better than normal. Life was wonderful and peaceful, and full of adventures, and there was no reason to believe that any of those dark shadows would ever return. And they didn't...

Until about 35 years after the birth of Asterix and Obelix...

**...**

**There it is, another chapter! Sorry it took so long, I actually had a little bit of writer's block (a rather rare occurrence for me). But I should be good now. And no, this is not the end of the story, there is much more to come...**

**Please review! THANKS!**


	7. Summer Days

_About 35 years after the birth of Asterix and Obelix..._

The summer sun beat down on the forest relentlessly; casting its warm, golden rays into every nook and every cranny. It sifted through the lush, green leaves of the wood; dancing on the forest floor in a shifting patter of light and shadow. The shade was dark and cool in contrast to the shriveling heat of the summer sunshine. The light caught the small, flowing streams; glinting off their refreshing surfaces. All was still and quiet, other than the soft songs of the forest birds and the gentle hum of insects. Shafts of sunlight descended all around; dust motes drifting within them. In short, a beautiful summer day bathed in color and cloaked in an intense humidity.

Asterix stood perfectly still. He didn't move. He was smiling as his eyes wandered over the peaceful scene; absorbing it and ingraining it into his memory. The Gaul took deep breaths of the heated air around him. It certainly was hot; perhaps the hottest summer they had had in years. But Asterix didn't mind much. It was weather like this that came hand in hand with this calming peace. Romans rarely attacked during these summer days; the heat being more than they could handle in their fabric uniforms and heavy, clunky armor. The Romans would leave the Gauls alone for most of the month. Not that the Romans were exactly enthusiastic about tangling with their indomitable foe. No, things would remain peaceful for quite some time. Asterix, however, still made it a point to scout around, in case some unforeseen threat should raise from the calm.

Asterix stood in the shade, feeling relief from the sun as a gentle breeze drifted through the forest. It felt good to be out of the village. It had been several weeks since any adventures had found their way into the short Gaul's life. And, even though it felt good to have a break, Asterix found himself wishing that _something_ would happen. He wasn't one to sit still for very long. His life had always been one thrilling adventure after another. It kept him on his toes; kept him alert and occupied. But it was times like these, when all he had to do was wander the woods, looking for trouble were there was none to be found, that Asterix began to grow increasingly restless. Not that he wanted trouble; he just wanted something other than this dull drag that remained the same day after day. He longed for the slightest bit of excitement; something to do.

The little Gaul sighed, preparing to turn and continue his stroll when suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, something enormously large and heavy landed right beside him, causing him to give a cry of surprise. The force of the object's impact made a thunderous sound, seeming to shake the very foundations of the earth. The quake threw off Asterix's balance, causing him to stumble back and trip to the ground. He sat there, eyes and mouth open in shock, looking up at the giant hunk of carved stone, commonly known as a menhir, towering over him. It had only missed him by inches.

The sound of light, high-pitched barking filled the air. A moment later, a tiny, black and white dog raced into the clearing. The pup gave a few yaps over his shoulder, signaling to someone behind him. The dog seemed quite pleased with himself, until his little eyes fell on Asterix. The pup gave a concerned whine, running forward to nestle at the short man's side. Asterix gave the dog a gentle pat as he carefully picked himself up off the ground.

"Dogmatix?! Dogmatix, where are you, boy?!" The voice came from within the forest somewhere to their right. Asterix wasn't surprised to hear it; in fact, he had expected it.

"He's over here, Obelix," Asterix called back, and Dogmatix added a bark to confirm that it was true.

There was a moment in which the sound of heavy footsteps was heard, along with the crackle and crunch of shrubbery being crushed into the earth. Then, lumbering at his own pace, Obelix stepped into the clearing as well. His eyes lit up when he spotted his two closest friends.

"Ah, there you are, Dogmatix," the giant Gaul hummed happily. He reached down and Dogmatix ran forward to jump into his master's arms; licking Obelix's nose in joy. The big fellow chuckled, sending Asterix a smile. "Hello, Asterix! I didn't know you were out here in the forest! I've been teaching Dogmatix how to fetch, you see." He beamed with pride, ruffling the pup's ears.

Asterix shifted his gaze between the tiny dog sitting in Obelix's palm and the huge stone now partially embedded in the ground. It was more than obvious that Dogmatix would not be able to even budge the menhir, never mind fetch it. Obelix was the only one who _could_ lift it, really, due to the permanent effects the Magic Potion had had on him. Oh, the others could do it with the help of the Magic Potion, but Obelix was even stronger than that. The big Gaul always forgot his own strength. He forgot, quite often, that the others couldn't always do what he could. And because of that, Obelix often did things that were harmless games to him, but were rather hazardous to the rest of the Gauls. Throwing menhirs being one of the main ones.

Asterix remembered a particular time in which Obelix had accidentally dropped a menhir on Getaix, their village druid. Now _that_ had been a disaster! The druid had completely lost it; running about and laughing hysterically for quite some time. Luckily, things had all worked out in the end, and Getafix had returned to normal. But it was a frightening example of what an ill-timed menhir throw could result in; one that had stuck in all the Gauls' memories.

The smaller Gaul crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his friend with a chiding glare. "Obelix, what have I told you about throwing menhirs in the forest? You can't see well with all the trees, and you could hit someone. You very nearly hit me!" He gestured to the immense stone that was about five times his size. It would have crushed him like an insect had it landed on him.

Obelix looked over at his rocky possession. It had settled deep into the grass, making it seem as if it had always been there and always would be. To him the stone was practically weightless, and Obelix found it hard to understand how such a tiny, little menhir could be such a problem. But Obelix knew better than to argue with Asterix about this subject, and so he muttered an apology and then quickly changed the subject.

"Any luck on the patrols?"

Asterix's scowl quickly morphed into a smile. He knew that by 'any luck' his friend meant 'had he run into any fun Romans to attack'. If there was one thing Obelix loved more than throwing menhirs, it was giving the Romans a good pummeling. Not that Obelix was cruel; far from it. It was just sort of a sport with him, and he never caused any serious damage to the soldiers. Black eyes and bruises was as violent as any of the Gauls would ever get with them.

"Sorry, Obelix," Asterix chuckled sympathetically, "I've been all through these woods this morning. You're the first soul I've seen since break...fast..."

"Speaking of breakfast, why don't we head back to the village and...Asterix?...Asterix are you listening to what I'm saying?"

The smaller Gaul had turned abruptly during their conversation to look into the forest, and was now standing perfectly still. Obelix was cross at first, thinking that his friend was purposely ignoring him. But then he noticed how tense Asterix had become. He was standing in an odd way, as if he were ready to run at a moment's notice. He was breathing very shallowly; an attempt to better hear...something...But what really got Obelix's attention was how Asterix's hand was hovering over the little, green gourd of Magic Potion his friend always kept strapped to his side. Asterix only used it when it was absolutely necessary; when there was great need or danger.

"Asterix..." Obelix lowered is voice to a whisper. "What's wrong?"

"I...I don't know." Asterix remained as he was for several long moments more, then he seemed to relax again. His hand moved away from the magic potion on his belt. He gave a tired sigh, looking up at his concerned friend. "I thought there was something there for a second...but it's gone now."

"Was it a Roman?" Obelix asked hopefully.

"No." Of that Asterix was certain.

"Well, then what was it?"

"I don't know; I didn't see it."

Obelix blinked in confusion, his face twisting into a puzzled frown. "But if you didn't see it, how do you know it wasn't a Roman?"

Asterix was gaining a somewhat confused expression himself. "I...I don't know how to explain it." He shivered a little, despite the heat of the day. "I...I guess I just knew it was there. I could feel it." He stared in the direction that feeling had come from, but still he saw nothing.

Beside him, Obelix and Dogmatix exchanged looks; the big Gaul tapping a finger repeatedly against his head. Asterix noticed the motion and looked up at his friend sharply. When Obelix gave him a guilty look, Asterix simply couldn't keep a straight face.

"Oh, come on, Obelix," Asterix chuckled, giving his friend a playful shove that didn't even budge him. "Let's head back to the village. I've got to give Chief Vitalstitistix my report."

Obelix looked pleased with the idea, but he was still a little concerned for his friend. "What about what you...felt?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's just the heat getting to me," the smaller Gaul assured. "Just my imagination."

"You sure? You're not ill?"

Now Asterix laughed. Obelix might not be the brightest man who ever lived, but he certainly had a big heart. He was always worrying over others, but especially Asterix. It had been that way for many years; ever since Obelix had fallen into Getafix's cauldron of Magic Potion when he was a little boy. Before the incident, Asterix used to defend his plumper companion against the bullying of the other boys. Afterwards, when Obelix gained permanent strength, it seemed he was always trying to repay the favor. Asterix appreciated it, and it made their friendship all the stronger.

"Yes, Obelix, I'm sure. Now lets go."

With that, the two Gauls and their canine friend made their way back toward their village. It was nearly midday now, and the heat had reached its highest. The air was stale with it, breathing in thick and humid into their lungs. They left the shades of the forest for the sun-pressed stretch of grass between the woods and the village walls. All seemed well enough, but, despite Asterix's assurances, the little Gaul still couldn't shake that feeling that something wasn't quite right. Like they were being watched, and he had to fight the urge to whirl around and face the forest to look.

...

The sound of yelling and shouting in the village alerted Asterix to the problem long before he actually saw it. Picking up his pace, he rounded the corner to be greeted with the sight of an intense fish fight in full swing. Fish and other bits of assorted mackerel were strewn all over the square. Dust was billowing up all around the teaming pile of rage-filled men; legs and arms kicking out in all directions. To the side, Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix, no doubt the start of the whole brawl, rolled about, hitting each other with fish. The rest of the men were either fighting with their fists, feet, their helmets, or, in one fellow's case, an unfortunate chicken who had chosen the wrong time of day to take a leisurely stroll.

Asterix stood watching, arms hanging loosely at his sides and his mouth agape at the mess the menfolk were making.

Fights like these were not uncommon. In fact, it wasn't unusual to have two or three a day. It had become a part of life in the village. Sometimes even the woman participated. Obelix found it a fantastic sport and good 'practice', as he called it, for when they next visited the Romans. Asterix, personally, rarely joined in the rowdy exercise. He disliked the brute force it displayed, especially Gaul against Gaul. It was an opinion that Asterix shared with Getfix wholeheartedly.

Beside him, Obelix clapped his hands in excitement. "Oh! A fight! Come on, Asterix! Let's join in!"

Asterix shook his head resolutely. "No, Obelix. You know what Getafix said before he left. We have to stop this before it gets out of hand." He took a few steps toward the mass of jerking arms and legs and dust. "Hey!" No one noticed. Asterix cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled louder. "Hey! Stop that!" Still no response. Asterix was just about to try something a little more drastic, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Looking up he found it was Obelix. His big friend gave him a nod and took a deep breath. Asterix suddenly thought to cover his ears, and was very glad he did.

"STOP FIGHTING!"

Obelix's voice was amazingly loud, as well as deep. The sound vibrated the ground beneath their feet, and was probably heard as far as Rome. The brawl came to a grinding halt as all the Gauls let out a gasp and covered their own ears. The dust settled and the punching stopped. The echoes of Obelix's shout were still hanging over the village somewhere as they all turned to face them.

Fulliautomatix winced, testing to see if the shout had finally dissipated. He found that it had and instantly marched toward the two Gauls with a look of anger pasted on his red face. The others were not far behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he grouched, jabbing a finger into Obelix's enormous stomach. He glared at the bigger man, demanding an answer, but it was Asterix who provided that.

"What do you think _you_ are doing?!" he retorted sharply, jabbing his own finger into Fulliautomatix's taught chest. "We're not supposed to fight when Getafix isn't here!"

"And why not?!" Unhygenix piped up hotly. His face was red too. In fact, all the Gauls looked terribly flushed and overheated. It suddenly struck Asterix that the heat might be affecting the mens' moods. Summer weather had made them restless too; they just had a different way of releasing it than he did.

Forcing himself to calm down, Asterix spoke more gently. "If somebody gets hurt during a fight when Getafix isn't here, we have no Magic Potion to help heal the wounds."

"Aw, come on, Asterix," another Gaul spoke up. "It's not like we're going to get _that_ rough."

Asterix sent the speaker an exasperated look. The fellow was covered in bruises, many of which looked quite nasty. He let his gaze fall on the others, and they all lowered their eyes, knowing how foolish a statement that had been. They _did_ get that rough. Quite often. From time to time, someone would get hurt; more than just a bruise, and Getafix would heal them and then lecture them all about the danger of being too rowdy. But the fights would always start up again, sometimes only a few hours after Getafix had lectured them.

Asterix sighed. "Getafix will be back in a couple days. Do you think you guys can keep from wringing each other's necks until then?" As he gave them all a stern star, Asterix had to try hard to keep from smiling. He might act all tough on them, but he was really fond of what these people were. But he couldn't stand for anything to happen to anyone. And, at the moment, they had no way of treating anything serious. Even though Asterix had a little bit of Magic Potion, that was for emergencies, and the little warrior wanted to avoid those at all costs. They'd have to be extra careful, until the druid's return, and Getafix wouldn't be back for a few more days yet.

The druid had received a message from Carnutes three days before, saying that the Council of Druids were meeting for a matter of 'great urgency' and that he was required to attend. The message had been sent by the Venerable Druid himself. Asterix had wanted to go. Not for his own sake, but for Getafix's. There had been more than one occasion when some enemy or another got it into their heads that if they captured the Gauls' druid, then the Gauls would be helpless. And, though that was essentially true, the Gauls cared just as much for Getafix's safety as they did for his skill. The druid had been a friend to many of them since they were children. Asterix and Obelix couldn't remember a time when Getafix hadn't been there for them. Of course, that had largely to do with the fact that the druid arrived only a day before their birth. Getafix was almost like a second father to Asterix, which was why Asterix fought so hard to convince druid to let him accompany the him to Carnutes.

But, this time, Getafix had refused. The druid had insisted that he would feel much better about leaving if Asterix remained in the village. He wanted the little Gaul to help Vitalstitistix keep things in order; keep the other villagers from throttling one another. But Asterix felt there was more to it than that. Since the arrival of the message until the time Getafix left, the druid had been very agitated; almost fidgety. It made Asterix nervous and worried. But, despite his objections, Asterix finally agreed to stay behind. He did so grudgingly, but, really, he had no choice in the matter. Getafix could be extremely strong willed, and, as village druid, he really did have the authority to tell Asterix what to do.

Asterix finally managed to get the angry Gauls calmed enough to promise they wouldn't have any more brawls...at least for a while. They all went of, grouching as they went. Asterix could feel his own temper simmering within him. It was the heat. That was the problem. The heat was making them all irritable, and snappy. But, somehow, Asterix was able to push it down. He had to keep his cool, so to speak. As village warrior, a lot of people looked up to him. It would not do for him to give in to his agitations.

Once everything was settled, Asterix told Obelix he would return in a moment. "I have to report in to Chief Vitalstitistix."

Obelix nodded. "I'll meet you over at your hut." He smiled as he rubbed his stomach, and Asterix already knew that he would be entertaining Obelix for lunch. That was fine by him. Asterix and Obelix did that quite often; it had become a sort of tradition. And so, with a nod, the two Gauls headed in their prospective directions.

Asterix swiftly made his way toward the Chief's hut. He had actually already passed it, back when he and Obelix had first entered the village, but Asterix had been distracted by the fight and had gone on by. Now, as he returned to his leader's abode, he saw that Impedimenta, Vitalstitistix's wife, was outside sweeping. She was kicking up a lot of dirt, which made one wonder what good the sweeping was actually doing.

Impedimenta was one of the few villagers who had not lived in the village all their lives. She originally came from Lutetia, considered the greatest city in the universe, where Asterix had heard her mention having a merchant brother...Homeopathix, if Asterix recalled correctly. He lived there with his wife, Tapioca. Asterix and Obelix had met him once, when Vitalstitistix and Impedimenta had gone to visit one year. While the food and wine of the wealthy merchant had been excellent, the company had been rather distasteful. Not that Homeopathix was an unpleasant fellow, but he and Vitalstitistix never really got along. They had fought and argued, which led to other lengthy, complicated adventures.

Vitalstitistix and Impedimenta had met one day, in the Lutetia marketplace, and Vitalstitistix had fallen in love with her immediately. After some time of constant wooing and bothersome practices in which the Chief forced many to be a part of, Vitalstitistix finally won her heart. She had been with the village now for quite a number of years. She often complained of their 'barbarianism', threatening to return to her brother in Lutetia; but everyone new she loved it in the village and wouldn't leave it for the world.

"Good afternoon, Impedimenta," Asterix greeted, coming up to stand beside her. She gave him a look that told him at once that he had stopped by at the wrong time. The chief's wife was known for her nagging tongue and fiery temper. There were days in which it was questioned who was actually in charge of the village, her or Vitalstitistix. She was strong willed and wasn't shy about being heard. You wanted to make sure you stayed on her good side, lest you may find yourself regretting it. And, right now, Asterix found himself regretting even coming a hundred yards in proximity to her.

"Well," she huffed, looking him up and down. "I certainly hope you enjoyed your _nice_, _work-free_ stroll in the forest, Asterix! While the rest of us were here, slaving away!" She gave him a glare and returned to sweeping, kicking up even more dust.

Asterix was annoyed by her accusation, though he managed to hold back the retort that had almost escaped his lips. He knew she really didn't mean it. He also knew that she knew that he _had_ been working. It was his duty to keep the village safe; to scout out the area for any problems that might arise. It was the heat getting to her. As it was to them all. The villagers, including Impedimenta, were never this cranky. Never this cross with him. Well, almost never. They usually respected him for what he did, and his total devotion to his occupation as the village warrior. But, once in a while, when they were frightened, or mad, or, apparently, overheated, they would sometimes forget how much Asterix meant to them. They'd start to take him for granted. But Asterix always knew it wouldn't last long. It never did. Sometime tomorrow the apologies would start and the day after, everything would be back to normal.

Asterix muttered a quick response and carefully skirted around the grumbling woman to enter the Chief's hut. The room within was dark compared to the outside would of bright, glaring sunshine. But, despite the relief from the light, the intense heat still resided. In fact, it made the room very stuffy; more like an oven than a house. As his eyes began to adjust to the indoor lighting, Asterix noticed his Chief sitting slumped in his chair. Asterix hesitated, realizing that Vitalstitistix was asleep. He thought of maybe leaving and coming back later, but then thought better of it. The Chief and Getafix always told him to give very prompt reports. Not reporting, even on an uneventful day like this, could cause a problem later on. It had been known to happen.

"Uh...Chief?" Asterix gave his leader a gentle shake. When that failed, he shook a little harder. "Chief Vitalstitistix?" All he got in response was a loud snore. Sighing, Asterix braced himself for what he knew would be an unpleasant audience with the man, and shouted, "Chief!"

Vitalstitistix gave a choking sputter, kicking feet nearly catching Asterix in the face. The Chief sat up with a snort, looking frightened and confused. "What?! Who?! I was a-" He noticed the little man standing sheepishly in front of him. "Oh, by Toutatis, Asterix!" he cried angrily. "What in blazes do you want?!"

Asterix flinched back a little. _Great; another Gaul suffering from a short temper this morning._ "I-I was just reporting in, Chief."

"Well?! What is it?!"

"No Romans to be seen in the forest. No one at all, really. Everything is safe and quiet."

Vitalstitistix scowled. "And you woke me up to tell me _that_?"

"...Yes, Chief."

Vitalstitistix ran a hand over his face, which, like the others, was very flushed. "Very well, very well," he muttered, "Now can I go back to sleep?" He didn't wait for an answer, but instead settled back into his chair with another snore. Asterix gave him a mock salute and then turned and marched out of the hut. He didn't even say goodbye to Impedimenta on the way out.

Asterix had a lot of patience; that was true. But he could only take so much. If the others were having a bad day, they didn't have to take it out on him! Maybe that was why they targeted him; they knew he could take it. Well, he had had his maximum amount for today. He stomped off; he needed to get away from them for a while. Until they all calmed down a little. Asterix hadn't even been able to tell Vitalstitistix about the strange feeling he had had in the forest. The Chief was not in the mood for that. No one was. And now, neither was he.

Asterix headed back toward his hut to meet Obelix for lunch. At least the heat never seemed to affect his big friend. Obelix would be his cheery self, and Asterix knew that, by the time the meal was over, he would feel much less tense and upset. By Toutatis, this was turning out to be a harder few days than he had ever anticipated! With Getafix gone, everything felt as if it were slowly spiraling out of control. Asterix found himself hoping the meeting in Carnutes would be very brief.

The sooner Getafix returned, the better.

**...**

**Oh, it feels so good to be writing using the usual characters again! Ah! :) I missed them.**

**Like I've mentioned before, I'm in college, so I both ask and thank you for your patience with the spaces between each posting. THANKS! :)**


	8. Unwanted Visitor

Getaix was overwhelmed with a strong feeling of Déjà vu. Sitting in the Great Hall of the Carnutes brought back many memories, both good and bad. But mostly bad. Getafix could only gaze at the enormous, rectangular room with images of the past still printed fresh in his mind. The Great Hall had changed a lot since last he had seen it. Of course, that was because it had been almost completely destroyed. A large amount of work had been put into restoring it; digging the room out after the terrible earthquakes and replacing the intricately designed pillars. But, despite the obvious care that had been taken, it was no where near its former glory. Its once flawless architecture was crooked and sagging. Its once smooth corners were now sharp and angled. It was really a shame; and it brought back thoughts that had long been buried and forgotten.

Getafix had arrived in the Forest of the Carnutes the day before. He had been greeted by many old friends, many of whom he hadn't seen for quite some time. They were all just as puzzled as he as to why an urgent meeting had been called. They wouldn't know until the Venerable Druid returned from...wherever he had been. They had been waiting for the better part of the night and day. Getafix had insisted on staying in the Great Hall the entire time. He had been offered to spend the night in his own private room, but he declined. The Hall brought back enough unpleasant memories. Getafix decided to spend the night sitting up in the Great Hall, and he wasn't the only one. Very few of the druids seemed at ease in the Carnutes, except for those who had resided there these last few years.

Getafix found that he felt even less at ease knowing he was underground. After all, he had spent the past thirty-five years in the sun-filled world above. He found it made him feel trapped and almost claustrophobic. Getafix was very relieved, as were the others, when it was announced that the Venerable Druid had returned.

The Chief Venerable Druid made his way swiftly into the room, followed, to Getafix's pleasure, by the druid Valuaddetax. Everyone straightened themselves in their seats; coming to full attention. The Venerable Druid seated himself at the head of the table, again with Valuaddetax beside him. Getafix noticed that they both looked quite worn. That was to be expected, since they had supposed to have just returned from a journey of sorts. But that wasn't it; there was something more. A worry creased their exhaustion; showing hidden in their expressions. They were practically fidgeting, the plumper druid especially.

The Venerable Druid stood, directing his gaze around the table. His eyes rested on Getafix a few moments longer than on the others, and it made Getafix even more uneasy. He had been steadily growing anxious since he had first received the letter. Something in the way it was worded pricked an emotion in the back of his mind. Fear? Definitely apprehension.

"My dear fellow druids," the Venerable Druid began, "I am very sorry to take you away from your homes on such short notice, but as our letter stated, this meeting was called for an urgent reason." Again the Chief Druid's eyes wandered to rest on Getafix. It was as if he were basing the meeting's success off of Getafix's reaction alone. He shifted his gaze away, sweeping it over them all before dropping the news like a fifty ton menhir. "We have reason to believe...that Mastix has returned."

A collective gasp went up from them all, followed by a terrible, stunned silence. Memories were flooding back to one and all. Those who had managed to conceal their discomfort of being back in the Carnutes were now no longer able to do so. They all flitted their eyes about the Great Hall, as though they expected it to fall and crush them just at that evil druid's name. Getafix himself felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Mastix? Back? It made him feel sick at the thought. His intuition had been correct. Something had been wrong; but he never would have guessed this meeting would be about Mastix. The silence was quickly broken as cries of fear or protest made themselves heard.

"Mastix? Are you sure?"

"He's come back for revenge!"

"But it can't be him! It's been years! Decades! Wouldn't he have come back long ago if he were ever going to?"

The druids' voices rose to a startlingly loud crescendo, making it hard to understand what _anyone_ was saying. Only three men in all the Hall remained still and silent. The Venerable Druid, Valuaddetax, and Getafix. For Getafix, he didn't even hear the ruckus. He sat staring into space, contemplating just what it all meant. Trouble. That's what it meant. Trouble, fear, and pain. Mastix was always paired with those three elements. Getafix raised his eyes and met those of the Venerable Druid. That was why the Chief druid had been gauging his reactions. Of all those present, Getafix had been most familiar with Mastix. Besides the Venerable Druid, Getafix had known Mastix best. Maybe, in some instances, he knew him better. Getafix had always seen the worst of Mastix's character. The characteristics that only reared their ugly heads when their teacher left the room. When Mastix knew no one was watching. Getafix had always seen the worst; Mastix's cruel nature and undruidic behavior.

"Please, please; calm down!" The Venerable Druid tried to regain control of the situation. After a moment, it worked and he was able to resume. "I know that name brings back a lot of terrible memories, and I know it seems unlikely, but there is no doubting it. He has been spotted by a number of persons...including myself. He passed through the Forest of the Carnutes the day before last. He was seen days before that to the East, rising from the Dark Wood. There is no question about it; Mastix is still alive, and he has returned."

Getafix suddenly felt great fear for the druidic leader. "O Venerable Druid, shouldn't you flee from here? You were the one who banished Mastix. Will he not come here seeking revenge on you?" The other druids mumbled their agreement. The Venerable Druid had indeed been responsible for deciding factor in the sentence for Mastix's fate. Of all those present, he would be the one most at risk.

The Venerable Druid shook his head sadly. "If it were tens years before now, or even five, that would be most true. But things have changed, Getafix. Many things. Things that are sure to have swayed Mastix's motives to reenter our lives."

Getafix raised an eyebrow in question, not fulling understand his past mentor's meaning.

"Tell me, Getafix," the Chief Druid inquired, "Above all else, what did Mastix crave?"

Getafix blinked, thrown off by the directness of the question. "He wanted to be the most renowned druid of our time," he answered simply. They all knew that was true.

"And who, Getafix, among those gathered here today, fits that description?"

Getafix opened his mouth to answer but then snapped it shut as realization dawned on him.

The Venerable Druid nodded as he recognized the understanding in Getafix's eyes. "That has always been Mastix's goal; to be the best. To rise above us all, no matter the cost. He even murdered for it, and still he never attained that which he desired. And then, years later, you, Getafix, are deemed the Druid of the year. You have remained in that position for some time, due to your wonderful Magic Potion." He sighed. "I fear that Mastix is not after me, but you."

"Me?!" The thought sent shivers up and down Getafix's spine. He had seen the damage Mastix's wrath could do. He had seen it crumble their home to rubble, divide them for nearly twenty-seven years, and frighten normally calm, collected druids practically out of their wit. And that had been a general wrath focused over a number of people and places. He couldn't fathom the power such anger could do to when focused on a single man. "But...but, are you sure?"

The Venerable Druid's face was shadowed with a dark cloud of regret. "I wish that I was not. But there is no other alternative possibility. He passed through the Carnutes, remember? He was headed toward the Northwest. For what other reason would he head that way than to find you?" The Chief Druid gestured around him. "That is why I called you all here; to warn you, but also to bring you here, Getafix. I wanted you to know that you are welcome here at the Forest of the Carnutes, just as you have always been. It is a safer fortress then it was back then. Many of us have devised spells that should deflect any danger Mastix poses to us. You may all stay." He turned back to Getafix. "It is important that you are kept away from him, Getafix. He means you harm, of that I am certain. And he wants your Magic Potion, of that I am even more certain."

Getafix's head was still reeling from this revelation. "You mean, he's coming after me; for the magic potion? Why?! What will that accomplish?!"

"It may only be that he wants you out of the way, Getafix," Valuaddetax finally spoke up. "Then he could easily become the most renowned druid in the known world." He gave Getafix a pleading look. "Please, stay here with us. Mastix must know that you live with those Gauls. If you stay here you'll be safe and he won't find you as easily."

"Now, Valuaddetax, you know I would love t-" Suddenly, Getafix's eyes opened wide and he stood abruptly from his seat. "Mastix knows I live with the Gauls?!" he cried, eyes flying to the Venerable Druid in panic. "But if he knows that he'll head there right away!"

"Exactly," Valuaddetax whimpered, frightened by his friend's reaction. "That's why we summoned you here as quickly as we could."

"But that means the village is in danger!"

"You don't know that, Getafix," the Venerable Druid said soothingly. He too was taken aback by Getafix's behavior. The years of living with the non-druids had changed Getafix over time. He was far more emotional than most of his own people; and this was a perfect example. "Mastix could arrive at your village, realize you're no where in sight, and then turn around and leave."

"_Could?_" The druids all winced at the high pitched shout. "I'm not about to hang the lives of an entire village on a _could_!" He moved back from the table, gathering his belongings as he did so. "I appreciate your warning, O Venerable Druid; but I cannot stand by in safety when my friends may be in danger. I have to go back." He stopped, realizing what a scene he had been making. But he wasn't going to back down now. He looked to his past mentor, eyes pleading to be given permission to go.

The Venerable Druid looked worried for his friend, but he knew Getafix was a strong willed individual. He had passions for things that the rest of the druids couldn't quite understand. But the Venerable Druid saw the fear in Getafix's eyes. Fear for his friends. That the Venerable Chief Druid _did_ understand. With great reluctance he gave his permission. "May Toutatis grant you speed and safety, Druid Getafix. Our hearts go with you."

Getafix gave a nodded thanks before swiftly leaving the room. The sound of his retreating footsteps was all that was audible in the silence that followed. And soon, even that faded away to quiet. The druids sat at the long, oak tables; many staring down at the worn, wooden boards. They all felt a feeling of dread reach into their hearts. Fear for Getafix; and worry for his safe return. Getafix was well-liked among his peers. No one wanted to lose his friendship. No one wanted to lose him.

Getafix exited the tunnel and stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. He headed in a Northwest direction at once, without even a pause. His heart was full of fears; they were gnawing away at him with a vengeance. He didn't know what to expect when he reached the little Gaulish village, but his feelings told him it would be good. He had to hurry. It would take all night to get there. Normally the trip would take about a day and a half; sleeping overnight in the forest at leisure. But, if he kept a quick, determined pace, Getafix was sure he could be back in the village by later morning. Even that was far too long for his nerves.

Mastix was sure to be looking for him; and his friends would have no way of knowing the danger Mastix would pose.

* * *

><p>The sweltering sun was setting in the West, shining red and gold on the water beside the Gaulish village. It rippled and danced with the waves, giving the impression of a woven carpet of color that swept off into eternity. It was beautiful. Along with its beauty, the hot rays of the summer day reduced to a pleasant warmth. Shadows were lengthening and a light, balmy breeze shifted through the long, dry grasses, causing them to swish against one another. Crickets and other nightly artists began their nocturnal symphonies, adding to the calm of the evening. Everything seemed to glow a pinkish, rose color, due to the sunset far on the horizon.<p>

Asterix and Obelix sat side by side, viewing the breath-taking scene. It was beautiful, like something out of fantasy. Like a painting from Greece, or a statue from Egypt, inlaid with gold; it was a masterpiece. Even though the heat had not bothered them too badly, the two Gauls still felt relieved at the distinct change in temperature. It made up for everything they had endured earlier. Every hot-tempered person they'd come across was worth it if it meant they could live in this Heaven on Earth for but a second.

They had just been returning from Asterix's evening rounds when the sun began its brilliant show. Asterix always checked the forest twice, just to be safe. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. He was probably overdoing it; he knew, but one could never be too careful. Too many times had problems or threats arisen from the hidden safety of the forest. Asterix never wanted that to happen again. Of course, he couldn't always discover dangers before they arrived; but he was willing to always give it his best try.

Asterix sighed contentedly as he absently twisted and tore the grass beneath his hands. It felt good to relax. Not that he had done much that day; but that was just it. He felt more exhausted from _lack_ of activity than he would from an all out invasion by the Romans would leave him. It really had been a long day. A long day of practically nothing happening. He and Obelix had spent much of their time staying out of the other Gauls' way. But now, with the cool of the evening settling around them, Asterix was sure that the villagers' mood would have improved. He had almost felt like as outcast for most of the day, and he was looking forward to being accepted in once more. He tried not to let it bother him, but, try as he might, he never could quite succeed.

"They didn't mean anything by it, Asterix," Obelix spoke up softly beside him, and Asterix vaguely wondered how his friend knew what he had been thinking. "You know how they are." The big Gaul tapped a finger to his head several times, causing Asterix to laugh. Obelix was right, of course. The villagers _didn't_ mean to hurt Asterix's feelings. It had just been one of those days when everyone seemed to be snappy; looking for someone to snap _at_. It happened from time to time, but it never got any less painful.

"I just wish they wouldn't take it all out on me," Asterix confided, "It...really starts to wear me down." He quickly returned his gaze back out toward the sunset, trying to hide the expression that he couldn't seem to hold back from his face. He hadn't expected himself to suddenly get all emotional about it. Maybe this was bothering him more than he realized...He decided to shy away from the subject altogether. "It's going to be a clear night tonight, Obelix. I bet Getafix will be out star-watching in the Carnutes. You know how much he enjoys the night sky." Again Asterix wished for Getafix to return. The village was never the same when he was away. And Asterix found that he had no one to bring his problems to. Oh, he could always talk to Obelix, but Obelix didn't always understand. The druid understood, and was able to give him helpful advice whenever the smaller Gaul found himself in question. That was what Asterix needed.

Obelix watched as his friend abruptly changed their discussion. He knew Asterix well enough to see that the short Gaul was upset. But he also knew that Asterix didn't want to talk about it. Doing so would show weakness. Asterix was the village warrior; he had to be strong. Even when Obelix knew the little Gaul was struggling inwardly, he saw how Asterix always managed to focus on everybody else but himself. That was why Obelix got mad when the villagers became cranky toward his friend. All the Gauls saw sometimes was Asterix the Warrior; strong and unbeatable. But Obelix always saw the other side of his friend. The side that stood silently gazing out toward the setting sun, breathing deeply as he absorbed its beauty. The side that wasn't always strong, and wasn't always unbeatable. The Asterix that, sometimes, needed assurance, just like anyone else. Personally, Obelix thought it was ridiculous to hide ones feelings, but he respected Asterix's habits, whether he agreed with them or not.

Patting Asterix's back a few times in a comforting manner, just to let his friend know he understood, Obelix allowed the conversation to shift. "What do you think the urgent meeting of the druids is about, Asterix?"

His friend's face quickly changed from downcast to mild curiosity. Asterix had always enjoyed a good mystery, even the small ones. When people didn't tell him what was going on, he was determined to figure it out himself, one way or another. That was another characteristic that had stayed with him since childhood. "I don't know, Obelix. It was a rather sudden thing. He got that letter without any prior warning; with only a day to reach the Carnutes in time. Whatever they must be discussing must be very important."

"I good kind of important?" Obelix asked. He wondered whether it might be some new potion or spell that they could test the Romans with. That was always fun. It never did any harm, none that lasted long anyway. And it was always terribly funny when they reacted by turning odd colors. Of course, that had only happened once, and Getafix and Asterix were completely against that type of experimentation now.

Asterix paused, thinking, and then shook his head. He though back to the day Getafix had left. He remembered it clearly, having felt rather ill-at ease at the time. "I don't think so...Getafix seemed kind of upset after he read that letter. He became fidgety, and he wouldn't let me leave the village to go with him."

Obelix shrugged. "That's what he usually does. He always puts up a fight when we try to travel with him; to guard him."

"Yes, Obelix, I know. But this time it was different. All those times he refused to let us come was because he believed it was all quite unnecessary; that nothing would happen."

"Which it always did," Obelix added quickly.

"But this time it was almost like he wanted us to stay because he knew something _would_ happen."

Obelix gave him a look. "Like what?"

"I don't know. It's just a feeling." Asterix sighed. He seemed to be 'feeling' a lot lately. He wasn't sure he liked it. He felt like there was constantly something hanging over their heads. Something dangerous, but he couldn't see it or figure it out. Asterix watched as the last rays of the sun began to sink slowly into the West. It would be dark soon, and though Asterix knew there was nothing in the world to fear when Obelix was with him, he still didn't treasure the idea of being outside the gate after dusk. No sense tempting trouble. "Come along, Obelix. Time to head back to the village for supper."

Obelix favored that idea immediately. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together in anticipation of a good meal. "Oh, goody!" He made his way to his feet, his stomach giving an insistent gurgle as he did so, as if it too was giving its approval. "Wait while I find Dogmatix."

"Where is he?" Asterix suddenly became aware that he hadn't seen hide or hair of the little creature for the last several minutes. He was certain Dogmatix had been with them, right up to when they sat down to watch the sun set.

"I let him wonder a little while we were enjoying the view." Obelix started waddling off, his feet beating down the grass wherever he walked. He began calling for his little canine friend, raising his voice so that the pup couldn't possibly miss it. "Dogmatix! Come on, boy, it's time to go have supper!" He paused, waiting to hear a sharp yap in response. But all he heard was the ebbing tide down by the beach and the persistent chirps of crickets.

The two Gauls wandered about the grasslands that stretched out in front of the village gates. The straw-like grass was dry and wispy; long and fine, and was certain to contain many hiding places for a tiny dog like Dogmatix. The pup was usually very playful; hiding and running like most dogs, especially when you were trying to catch him. Dogmatix always found great sport in that. But he was always within sight then, and, as a rule, Dogmatix always came when Obelix called him. Always. Never failed. And the fact that Dogmatix was still nowhere in sight quickly caused both Gauls to worry.

"Dogmatix?!" Obelix's voice rose an octave as his anxiety began to grow. Even Asterix began to call out for the pup.

They searched high and low in the fields, all the while calling for Dogmatix, but still they couldn't find him. With each shout, that echoed all around them, they were only rewarded with silence and no black and white pup. Obelix was starting to panic as the shadows began to replace the golden light of the sun. The beauty of the sunset was forgotten as they continued their hunt.

Obelix looked about him worriedly, red pigtails swinging from side to side as he did. He noticing the few, weak stars that were just beginning to appear in the East of the navy blue sky, where the rays of the sun no longer reached. He was frightened, not knowing where his little friend was; and Dogmatix was so very small. A pup that tiny could easily get into trouble. He could fall into a ditch, or a hole. Or he could trip and land in the water. Dogmatix wasn't a very good swimmer. He could even have wondered into the woods and - the woods! They hadn't checked there yet!

"Asterix!" Obelix called over his shoulder as he bolted for the forest, "Let's try the woods!" He desperately wanted to find Dogmatix before darkness fell completely. I would be hard to find the pup at night. By Toutatis, he was even hard to spot during the day sometimes. His size was greatly to be blamed for that.

Asterix nodded and followed as quickly as he could. The little Gaul was worried about Dogmatix as well, though not nearly as much as his friend. He knew that the pup always came back; he would show up eventually. But it was getting dark, and Dogmatix was still quite young. And small. He could easily become a snack for some larger beast in the late night forest. Now _that_ was something worth worrying about! Asterix quickened his pace, entering the forest shortly after Obelix did.

Asteix wasn't able to keep up with his friend, since Obelix was permanently aided in strength by the effects of the Magic Potion and he was not. Obelix could run at amazing speeds, leaving Asterix coughing in the dust. Of course, Asterix could use his own stash of Potion that he carried at his side if he chose, but he decided against it. He only used that for emergencies, and he wasn't sure whether this counted as one yet or not. He needed to preserve his little store, lest real trouble should arise.

It didn't take long before Asterix stumbled to a halt in a dark, quiet clearing. Ahead of him he could see the crushed path Obelix had plowed through the dry shrubbery, and, though his friend was nowhere in sight, he could hear his booming voice in the distance, still calling for Dogmatix. Asterix was panting hard, hands resting on his knees as he attempted to gain his breath. He just needed to take a moment to rest. His short legs weren't made for running long distances and, even though Asterix was in good shape, there was no way he could go at the rate Obelix could; not without help. And so he stood still, waiting for his heart and breathing to slow.

He went over Dogmatix's disappearance in his mind. He was certain of when the pup had been with them. The dog had been at their heels all during Asterix's rounds, even trotting with them whenever they picked up the pace. And now, Dogmatix was nowhere to be seen. That meant that the dog had gone missing during when they had been gazing at the scenery. Obelix had said he had let Dogmatix 'wander', which meant that Dogmatix had been with them just after they had sat down. But it still didn't make any sense. The pup never left Obelix's side. How far would he 'wander'? Usually, not far at all. So the question was why he had wandered at all? Asterix shook his head. It just didn't make any sense.

Asterix was just about to head off again, feeling he should join Obelix, when suddenly he felt a shiver run down his spine. It surprised him; hitting him for no reason that he could think of. The air became oddly cold as the last bit of light was dragged away with the setting sun behind the horizon. Darkness fell so abruptly, Asterix was genuinely startled by it. He looked around him, trying to fight a terrible urge to yell out for Obelix. But that would be childish. There was no danger; not that he could see. That strange feeling he had felt that morning had returned. A sort of discomfort; a fear that seemed to come from all around him rather than from within him. Like the eyes of a hundred people were suddenly boring into him from every side; filled with an unfathomable animosity. Asterix's heart sped back up and his breathing became short. Suddenly, just when he was wondering how much longer he could fight the urge to run, the feeling left. Like a door being slammed shut, it was cut off and Asterix no longer felt it. It ended so abruptly that it left him gasping; struggling to calm his nerves. He stood tensely, as if he expected it to leap back out at him and grab him by the throat.

"Hello."

The voice caused him to gasp and whirl around, eyes wide. His breathing hitched as his nerves practically burned themselves out. He instantly felt foolish when he found, standing not three feet from him, a small, elderly woman. Her hair was white and fine as fresh fallen snow, blowing in strands across her face as a gentle breeze moved them. The wrinkles in her face testified to her great age. She wasn't mach taller than him, making her seem far less threatening than Asterix had feared. Her clothes were old and worn; rags of earthy colors or red and brown. She was smiling, the wrinkles curving around her thin mouth as she studied him with large, prying eyes. They were odd, in that Asterix couldn't quite define their color. They were brown, he finally decided; but almost completely invaded by the black of her frighteningly large pupils. Her gaze annualized him, seeming to reach right into him as if by doing so she could read him perfectly. A tiny hint of that dreadful feeling returned; just an echo of it. Like the last wisps of smoke from a dying fire; faded and thin.

Asterix noticed quite suddenly that the woman was holding Dogmatix in her arms. The pup appeared to be distressed, looking at Asterix as if begging for help. He obviously felt very uncomfortable in the woman's careful grip. And yet, Dogmatix made no move to escape; he didn't wiggle or squirm, or even bark. He just hung there, limp in the woman's arms, gazing at him. It was rather unsettling; and Asterix's heart still refused to calm itself. Asterix found himself involuntarily putting a few extra steps between him and the woman.

The old woman chuckled; a sort of cackle that really wasn't all that pleasant. Her eyes were still fixed on him, reading his face and gauging his reaction. "I didn't mean to scare you, young man," she cooed. She reached out a withered hand, holding it out to touch his arm, and Asterix had to stop himself from jerking it away. "But I found this small dog out deep within these woods. I though perhaps that his presence meant there were folks about. You see, I am lost, with no food or shelter, and I-"

"Dogmatix!"

Asterix had been so focused on the strange woman that he hadn't noticed when Obelix had run back into the clearing. The big Gaul's eyes opened wide, a smile instantly lighting up his face as relief swept over him. He waddled up to the woman, towering over her. Asterix could see the surprise the woman felt at seeing a man of such tremendous size. But that wasn't unusual, and she recovered far faster than most. Grinning a toothy smile, she took Dogmatix and held him out toward Obelix.

"Does this little fellow belong to you," she asked, looking up into Obelix's face. Obelix nodded, his gaze fixed firmly on his pet as he took the dog from the woman's hands. Dogmatix finally moved, practically leaping into Obelix's arms, whining pitifully as if he were terrified. Obelix tried to sooth him.

"There, there, Dogmatix," he coaxed, stroking the black and white fur lovingly. "Nothing to be afraid of; no. This nice lady here brought you back to me safe and sound." He grinned at the elderly woman. "Thank you." He reached out a hand to shake the woman's outstretched one, when Dogmatix suddenly barked sharply and gave a growl. "Dogmatix!" Obelix cried in surprise, "No growling!" He turned back to the woman. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him."

The elder laughed, lowering her hand swiftly to her side. "That is quite alright, my boy. I am a stranger; your dog is simply doing his best to ensure his master's safety. As he should." She fixed her large eyes on the pup, and Dogmatix gave a whine and backed down at once.

Asterix still felt very ill-at-ease. He couldn't begin to guess why. As far as he could tell, the three persons in the clearing were the only souls for miles in the dark, wooded forest. And this old lady certainly didn't pose any threat. She was odd, that was true; something about her didn't settle right. But she wasn't a danger. If anything, she was _in_ danger. A woman of her great years, wandering the forest at night; it just wasn't safe. She would need shelter, food, and a place to sleep. Asterix was sure that the villagers wouldn't mind.

"Ah, ma'am?" The woman's gaze returned to him and once more Asterix felt a jolt on unease shoot through him. Why? What was wrong? He suddenly realized that he didn't trust this woman. Nothing against her personally, but there was something about her that sent up several little red flags in Asterix's mind. He didn't want her in the village. He didn't want her near any of his friends. And he certainly didn't want her to be anywhere near him, Obelix, or Dogmatix. He wished they had never come across her. Why? Asterix didn't know.

"Yes?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Uh...Um, what's...what's your name, ma'am?" Luckily he had come up with a quick question to cover what he originally had planned to say. She blinked at him, as if disappointed.

"My name is Petunia," she smiled, giving a little curtsy.

"I'm Obelix," the biggest Gaul introduced, "And this is Dogmatix." He once again tried to encourage Dogmatix to respond nicely to the old woman, but with no luck. The pup seemed quite reluctant to do so.

"And I'm Asterix." Again the eyes bore into him; large and dark. He wished she would stop looking at him like that. It made him feel exposed; as if nothing in his soul could be hidden from her. Asterix wanted to talk with Obelix and tell him about these feelings. He knew Obelix probably wouldn't understand, but he was afraid that Obelix would-

"Would you like to come back to our village with us?" Obelix invited cheerfully.

_He didn't._

"We're going to have nice, juicy boars, and I'm sure there's plenty for one more person."

_He did._

Petunia smiled kindly. "Yes, indeed. I think that would be most wonderful, thank you!"

_Well, that was that._ There was no way Asterix could take back Obelix's invitation. The damage had been done. Funny thing was, Asterix had no idea what the damage _was_. Maybe he was worrying over nothing. It was just a little old lady, for Toutatis' sake! It wasn't like she were some dangerous foe. Asterix pushed his negative feelings to the back of his mind and pasted on as friendly a smile as he could manage. "Follow us, ma'am. We'll take you to our Chief." They then led Petunia out of the forest and up to the village gates, Obelix all the while telling her of the succulent boars they would be enjoying shortly.

**...**

**Ah, another chapter. :) Feels good to be devoting my time to this story now (I just finished the other one I was working on). I have completed the format of the entire story (for once). Usually I just make up the story as I go along. This time, I've done a little more planning. Things should be getting interesting very shortly...**

**Oh, by the way, just wondering how many of my readers for Asterix are fans of another French comic series called Spirou et Fantasio? I'm thinking of doing a story for that fandom sometime in the near future, but I have no idea whether anyone would be interested. So, if you think of it, let me know. THANKS!**


	9. Deceptions

Asterix sat hunched over at the table in his hut, staring at the wooden surface intently. A plate, his breakfast, lay at his elbow, untouched. He was staring into space, trying to come fully awake. But his eyes felt heavy and swollen, a side affect from his restless night, and he was finding it hard to think clearly of anything other than his own bed. Oh, how wonderful it would be to just climb back beneath the woolen covers; letting all other responsibilities and problems drift away from his mind. But, Asterix knew that couldn't happen. He had far too much to do. Too many things to think about. Besides, he was pretty sure he wouldn't actually be able to drift off anyway.

Asterix had hardly slept at all the night before, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Well, at least, he could't come up with a satisfactory answer. There were many things that were sufficient to keep the little Gaul awake during the dark hours of the night. With Getafix gone he was nervous; with no missions or adventures he was restless; and with all the feelings he had been getting lately, he was on edge. And then there was their guest. She certainly seemed harmless enough, and yet, whenever Asterix was near her, he felt very uneasy. Frightened almost. As if her outward appearance were but a mask; a veil of light that hid some dreadful darkness under the surface. Just as a feeling; it wasn't like he could truly see it or anything. At least, most of the time he hadn't been able to...with one exception.

He and Obelix had led Petunia into the village the night before, Obelix chunnering on and on as if he and the woman were old friends. Petunia seemed very at ease with the big Gaul, cheerfully engaging him in any subject he brought up, which, of course, in Obelix's case was boars. After they arrived, they had escorted her over to Chief Vitalstitistix's hut, where all the other Gauls quickly gathered out of curiosity. It wasn't often that they got visitors, and it was an event that nobody wanted to miss. Vitalstitistix and Impedimenta came out to great their new arrival, and the chief's wife took a shine to Petunia immediately. Impedimenta had introduced the elderly woman to all of the villagers; telling a little bit about who they where and what they did. Petunia had smiled and complimented each and every one of them, winning them all to her cause, and, before Asterix knew it, she was given permission to stay in the village as long as she liked. She was told she could stay in a small, abandoned hut in the North end of the village, where it was quiet and tranquil. Petunia had thanked them all, saying that she was very grateful.

A small feast was given in the woman's honor, much to Obelix's excitement, and they had all eaten under the dark, star-studded sky together. All the while, Asterix kept a close watch on their guest. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the food and wine, eating far more than Asterix would expect a woman of her size and age to eat. As the meal came to a close, Petunia had begun asking questions. They started out harmless enough, mostly inquiries about Impedimenta's dress and where the women did their shopping. But then, as the conversation continued, the questions became for less innocent.

"I hear you have a druid in your midst," Petunia had stated carelessly.

"Oh, yes," Impedimenta had answered willingly, "His name is Getafix. He's been with us for...My, my, over thirty-five years now."

"Oh? Is he here tonight?"

Vitalstitistix had shaken his head, a little tipsy from the good wine and food. "Oh, no. He - _Hic!_ - He left a few days ago for the Forest of the Carnutes. Special meeting of sorts."

That seemed to catch Petunia's attention. She stopped eating altogether, devoting herself wholly to the conversation. "Oh," she had sighed sadly, "That's too bad. I really would have liked to have met a real, live druid. I hear they have amazing skill in spells and potions."

From across the table, an equally tipsy Fulliautomatix laughed heartily. "_Hic! - _Not as skillful as ours!" He reached for the wine flask to refill his cup, but his wife snatched it away, giving him a glare. He shrugged and turned back to the discussion. "He's got loads of fantastic spells," the blacksmith slurred. "He's the best druid there's ever been!"

Asterix hadn't been sure, but he thought he had seen Petunia stiffen at those words. She seemed to grow tense, turning slightly flushed.

"Oh?" she had managed sweetly, though now it sounded forced. "What makes him so special?" Under the mask of kind curiosity, Asterix had suddenly felt a strange hint of animosity. He suddenly felt that they should not be discussing anything important to the safety of the village with this woman, guest or no. But Fulliautomatix obviously hadn't felt the same way.

"Oh, lots of stuff, really. But most of all he's got a very special Magic Po-"

"Fulliautomatix!"

Everyone at the table, startled, had abruptly turned to face Asterix at his shout. His voice had held no anger, but it had contained a certain degree of desperation that was quite detectable. The little Gaul had stood up, leaning on the table looking very wide eyed, as if something had frightened him terribly.

Asterix had had no clue what had driven him to do so; but he had suddenly felt that he needed to shut Fulliautomatix up immediately. "I...I don't think we should be talking about that with strangers," he had stammered. The other Gauls gave him an odd look, somewhere between annoyed and confused, but then shrugged and continued their grazing and talking. Petunia, however, had turned her eyes to him sharply. They dug into him, full of kindness but, for one fraction of a second, Asterix was sure he had seen barely contained malice. A hatred that shone so brightly it was only just barely contained.

That one, threatening glare, though it only lasted but a flickering moment, stayed with Asterix for the rest of the night. He hadn't been able to close his eyes without seeing that woman's face. Those big, dark eyes. He had probably dropped off eventually, getting a little sleep, but it couldn't have been for very long; not with how he was feeling now.

"Asterix? Are you having breakfast?"

It was Obelix's voice, calling from outside the hut. Even in his tired state, Asterix couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He pushed himself up from the bench and staggeringly made his way toward his front door, rolling his eyes at his friend's predictability.

"Yes, Obelix. Come on in." He gave the wooden portal a light shove, opening it with a creak. He stepped back as Obelix managed to squeeze through the small opening, little Dogmatix scurrying along behind him. The pup greeted Asterix with a friendly bark, licking his hand as the dog followed his master.

Obelix flashed a friendly smile at the shorter Gaul as he made his way further into the room, rubbing his stomach as it gave an insistant gurgle. "Have you eaten yet, Asterix?" He noticed the plate of untouched food sitting on the table, then returned his questioning gaze to his friend. He suddenly noticed that his companion wasn't looking anything like his normal self. _Oh no, not again._

"No," Asterix admitted. "No, I haven't."

"Will you be joining me?"

"I'm...not that hungry."

Obelix fixed him with a look that was obviously laced with disapproval and worry. Asterix knew he wasn't hiding his condition very well. If he looked even half as bad as he felt, he was sure he was giving his friend quite a good reason to be concerned. He knew Obelix would want an explanation. And that was something Asterix didn't think he could give. He didn't know why Petunia's arrival had filled him with such ill-ease. There was no way he could explain that to Obelix, especially when he didn't understand it himself. And so, pasting on the most encouragingly normal smile he could manage, Asterix quickly added, "But I'm sure I'll work up an appetite later on. Don't forget, you and I promised to help Unhygenix fix that hole in his roof." That effectively distracted Obelix from Asterix's appearance.

Obelix chuckled. It was no secret in the village how that hole had formed in the fishmonger's ceiling. Cacofonix, whose hut was in a tree above Unhygenix's home, had been moving some furniture around a few days back. He had brought a few larger objects out onto his deck, and, whether because he bumped it or the wind somehow shifted the structure a bit, a rather cumbersome table had toppled from the tree. It landed squarely on Unhygenix's roof, tearing through to land within the house, right by the fireplace; upright. Luckily, no one had been in the hut when it fell, but the damage had been extensive. It wouldn't take long to take care of, Obelix knew, but he wanted to eat first; to keep up his strength. And it bothered him that Asterix was not doing the same.

"Well, alright," the big Gaul finally agreed, trying not to be too alarmed by Asterix's lack of appetite. "But_ I_, for one, would like to eat first."

Asterix laughed, gesturing to the plate of fruits and berries. "Help yourself; I didn't touch it." He quickly changed the subject before his friend could argue. "Has anyone seen anything of our guest this morning?" He really didn't feel like asking, but knowing where Petunia was was significantly better than not knowing at all.

Obelix shrugged, settling himself on the bench at Asterix's table. It creaked loudly, causing Asterix to wince in anticipation of its destruction; but it held Obelix's weight, surprisingly, like it always did. "No one's seen her," Obelix confessed, "But, of course, it's still early yet. I'd imagine an old lady like that would need plenty of sleep."

"Obelix!"

"Well, it's true," Obelix grinned as he began working his way through the meal. He noticed Asterix's smile and knew he had succeeded in his goal. He hated seeing Asterix down in any way. Whatever was bothering the little Gaul must be serious, for him to look the way he did. So tired; with so little energy. It had happened before; many times. When ever Asterix was pondering something that bothered him, or when he was depressed. Obelix hated it. If a smile could cheer Asterix up, Obelix would be as bright and cheery as he possibly could, no matter what it required. He might not know a much about a lot of things, but he did know how to spread general good feelings, and a laugh was always the quickest way to do so.

Asterix chuckled. "That's beside the point. It isn't nice to make fun of our elders...Even if they _are_ old." He tried to hide his smile, but failed. Obelix always knew when he was feeling low. The big Gaul had gained quite a knack over the years for getting him back on his feet when he felt himself stumbling. He had come to rely on it. Sometimes, Obelix was the only one who could help him out of the dark pits of depression that he sometimes fell into. Well, almost the only one. Getafix was another, though in a slightly different way. The druid's wise words often got Asterix out of fixes that no one else could. Whenever he had questions, he could always turn to Getafix...Except now. But Asterix didn't want to think of that. His problems, with all these strange feelings and thoughts, could wait until Getafix got back. After all, what could happen between now and then?

Asterix gently plucked Dogmatix from the floor where the canine was begging for food and brought him over to the table, setting the pup down and giving him a small morsel from the plate. The dog gave an appreciative bark before starting to gnaw on it happily. Dogmatix seemed far calmer than he had the night before. Less tense and nervous. That had been odd, to be sure. Dogmatix was usually full of energy, running in circles with such ceaseless activity that it was a wonder that he didn't wear himself out half the time. But last night, the pup had been acting very strangely, and Asterix couldn't help wondering if the dog had somehow sensed what he had.

"Ready to go?"

The sound of Obelix's voice jolted Asterix from his thoughts. The big Gaul was easing himself from the table, scooping up Dogmatix as he did so.

Asterix blinked. "You're finished already?"

"Well, I was hungry."

"I guess so." Getting up from his own seat, Asterix grabbed his helmet and placed in on his head. It settled comfortably there, as if that was where the object belonged and always would. It felt odd when he didn't wear it. Of course, he couldn't very well sleep in the hard, metal thing. He took it off then, but only then. It was a source of familiarity; routine; normalcy. Something that Asterix appreciated greatly, especially when he was troubled.

He felt a little more awake now, having forced himself to focus on the job at hand. Giving his friend a smile and a wave of his hand, Asterix started on his way. "Alright, Obelix. Let's go find Unhygenix. I'm sure he's anxious to get that hole patched up before we get any rain." He marched out the door, with Obelix right behind him.

* * *

><p>Cacofonix stood precariously close to the edge of his deck, overlooking the village. He wasn't the least bit afraid of falling, despite the fact that there were no guards or railings to keep him from doing so. It was rather a gift on his part. He had no fear heights, unlike many of his companions, who rarely visited his abode for fear of tumbling off the structure to the ground far below. He could stand right to the brink and not feel woozy or dizzy. It was a wonder he had never fallen, as bold as he was; but, to date, that had never happened. To everyone's relief.<p>

The bard was watching the villagers below, who were gathering to repair the gaping hole in Unhygenix roof. He knew he should head down to help too, since it had largely been his fault. But he was a little nervous about showing himself around the fishmonger. Unhygenix had not been pleased with him. Not at _all_ pleased. If he offered his services, who knew what kind of reaction he would receive. But he'd have to risk it. It wouldn't be right to hang back and let the others work. Even if Unhygenix got mad and turned him away, at least he would have tried.

Straightening up and preparing to descend the long, winding stairs that hugged the tree's trunk, Cacofonix suddenly spotted something in the distance. He shielded his eyes against the glare of the bright morning sun, making out a tall, thin figure clad all in white making its way toward the village. At first the bard couldn't imagine who it could be, but then, as the person grew more and more into focus, his eyes widened in recognition. Leaning over the deck the bard cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"It's Getafix! Getafix is back; he's coming to the gates!"

Asterix and the other Gauls looked up sharply at Cacofonix's raised voice. Asterix felt his stomach lurch as it always did when he saw the bard moving about so freely by his treehouse's edge. But he was quickly distracted as the words finally sank in. Getafix? Back so soon? He wasn't due back for another day yet. Not that Asterix was complaining. The druid had been greatly missed, and not only by him. Many of the other villagers had mentioned their wish to see Getafix back among them as soon as possible.

Dropping whatever they had been working with at the moment, the villagers headed for the gate, anxious to see their friend. A moment later a very tired, worn, but driven Getafix walked swiftly into their midst. The druid slowed immediately, taking in all their smiling faces at a glance. He seemed to relax, as if he had expected to be greeted in a far different, unpleasant manner. He let the Gauls shake his hand and pound his back, but all the while seemed to be searching the crowd for something. His eyes finally came to rest on Asterix and, despite his obvious distress, smiled at the sight of the blond Gaul. Asterix always caused him to feel warm in his heart. In this little Gaulish village that ceaselessly seemed to be thrown into chaos, one thing always stood firm and unchanging. Asterix was a pillar in Getafix's strength, though _how_ the druid didn't know. The little Gaul wasn't tall, or strong. But he was brave. Full of immeasurable courage. It was like a light that glowed within Asterix; touching all those around him and making him one of the most remarkable men that Getafix had ever known. He was one of the few people that the druid counted as a truly close friend. Not that he wasn't close to the others; far from it. He cared about them all very much. But Asterix was different. He was a little closer. Almost like a son.

Making his way through the teaming swarm of Gauls around him, Getafix finally reached Asterix. The short man greeted him enthusiastically, reaching out a hand to grasp the druid's own. "Welcome back, Getafix! We weren't expecting you back until tomorrow night!"

"Yes," the druid replied worriedly, suddenly reminded of why he had returned so abruptly. "I realized all at once that I may be needed here. Asterix," he took the Gaul by the arm, leading him away from the noise of the other chattering villagers. "Asterix, has there been any...strange men about while I was away?"

Asterix frowned at the odd question, shaking his head slowly. "No..." He thought back to his patrols within the forest for the past few days. "Not that I recall. I've been checking the woods twice each day, and I haven't seen any men, Roman or otherwise."

Getafix seemed to relax at that, until Asterix's next words hit him like a menhir.

"But we do have a rather odd woman staying with us."

The druid instantly felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. "A woman?!" he asked, maybe a tad bit too sharply. "When? What does she look like?!" He lay his hands on Asterix's shoulders, searching his friend's eyes as if the truth was there to be found.

Asterix's own anxiety was increasing. He could feel the tension coming off of Getafix in waves; like a bright flash of fear, one after the other in a repeating cascade. His own fears and worries were beginning to rise again within him, filling him with dread. "We found her last night; in the forest." He winced slightly as Getafix's grip on his shoulders tightened. "She was lost and needed a place to stay. She is well along in years; maybe -"

"Where is she now?" Getafix interrupted quickly. He had gone quite pale, and Asterix realized that whatever was wrong, was serious. The druid needed answers, but, unfortunately, Asterix wasn't sure he had the right ones to be of any help.

"No one's seen her yet. We assume she's still sleeping. She stayed in that empty hut, out near your place." Getafix let go of him, already running in that direction. Asterix couldn't conceal his alarm any longer. "Getafix, what's wrong?!"

"Much, I fear!" was all he got before the druid disappeared around the corner.

Asterix immediately started after him, yelling to Obelix over his shoulder. "Gather the others! something's not right!" He didn't wait for his large friend to reply, instead putting all his energy into moving as quickly as he could. Every fiber in his body was now screaming at him that there was something wrong; terribly wrong. Even worse, that something even more terrible was about to take place. He always knew when that feeling came. What made him frustrated with himself was that he still hadn't learned to listen to that strange instinct. He had felt it many times before, and still he had chosen to ignore it. He just hoped his mistake wouldn't cost them too dearly.

He pushed himself on a little faster, once in a while catching sight of the druid's white robe as Getafix turned the corners ahead of him. Asterix was unable to keep up, and soon he lost sight of the druid completely. Hopefully, if something bad was going to happen, it wouldn't happen until he was there to back Getafix up. No one should have to face trouble alone.

* * *

><p>Getafix saw his hut come into view as he skidded around the corner. It was a welcome sight, despite the circumstances. The druid was really quite a homebody; preferring to work among his books and potions than to go traveling to Toutatis-knew-where. He had missed his cottage, even though he hadn't been gone long at all. But the warm feeling the sight gave him was quickly smothered with a dark, choking fear. A fear he desperately hoped was all in his imagination. <em>Please may it just be a bad case of unwarranted paranoia!<em>

But with each step the feeling of foreboding only increased, until there was no doubt in Getafix's mind of what he would find upon entering his home. Putting on an extra burst of speed, the druid thrust himself against the door of his hut, nearly tearing it from its hinges as he flung it open.

"Mastix!"

The words were out of his mouth before he even saw the threat in physical form. He didn't need to see. The eyes were weak things really; so easy to trick. It is a simple matter to make them perceive that which is not there or is not real. That was one lesson that Getafix remembered; the last lesson Prolix had ever given him. But a strong, sound mind is not so easily misled; not when it is on the shoulders of the truly wise. Not when one feels what is right and true. And, for Getafix, that feeling was nearly overwhelming.

The interior of his hut was very dark compared to the dancing world of sun outside. His eyes struggled to adjust as his mind frantically encouraged them to work faster. The only light that was finding its way into the room was a patch of gray coming in through the window. It flowed in small, straight beams, casting a pale rectangle on the dusty, dirt floor. Getafix had never remembered his abode ever being as dark and desolate as it did now.

But from within the darkness, Getafix saw movement. When he had burst in through the door he had heard a soft gasp and a small shatter of glass; then a terrible silence. It lasted for several seconds, while Getafix peered into the inky black, willing his eyes to see what he knew was there. Then, from somewhere in front of him, Getafix heard a soft chuckle. But it wasn't the chuckle of a kindly old woman. This was the sound that, despite over thirty-five years, was still ingrained and burned into Getafix's memory.

"Well, well; if it isn't Getafix, my old colleague," a deep voice cackled nastily, "I was wondering when you were going to show up."

Getafix suppressed a shiver that suddenly tried to run up and down his spine. He all at once wished he was anywhere in all the world but here; alone in a dark room with perhaps the most twisted man he had ever known. He wished he could just turn around and leave; go somewhere far away where he wouldn't have to face this element from his nightmares. It all had such a surreal atmosphere to it, as though it were all just a terrible dream he would soon wake up from.

Getafix summoned his courage and stood his ground. "What is it you want, Mastix?" It wasn't that the druid doubted his past-mentor's word that Mastix was after the potion; not even close. It was more that he was trying to stall, so that he had more time to let his mind and eyes adjust to both the darkness and the dangerous situation.

"Oh, come now, Getafix, don't be such a suspicious man," came the reply, a little closer this time. "I have simply come to...pay you a visit."

Getafix took an involuntary step back, determined to keep as much space between them as possible. "Well," he growled, "You've visited. Get out." The druid gained a little more courage. "You have no power here."

It was well known by Getafix, as well as all the other druids, that one is far less powerful in their magic when they were far from their books and powders. Away from their designated place or home, a druid's power was greatly reduced. Mastix was in his hut, that was true, but Mastix would not gain strength from that which did not belong to him. Mastix was separated from his necromancy; Getafix was not. Whatever frail power his enemy possessed here in the village would not be able to stand against Getafix's own, which was founded in and by the village.

But Mastix's answer was a belittling snicker. "Oh, but Getifix, my dear, old friend; I haven't gotten what I've come for."

"So you have come for something then?" The druid decided to play it dumb. It was time to bring this to a head. Mastix could do nothing here; not at the moment, Getafix was sure. It was time to confront the real reason for the man's visitation.

"Don't patronize me!" Mastix snapped, his voice changing in an instant. A pale green light began to fill the room, though Getafix didn't noticed it. His attention was fully focused on Mastix's direction. Even when the light enabled him to see his adversary, Getafix didn't pay it much attention. It was a sickening green color; one that gave the room a dangerous, unbalanced feel. Mastix gained back a little of his self control. "I have come to _discuss_ a bit of magic with you," he finished, pasting on a eerie smile that Getafix could just make out in the faint light. The man was wearing rags, draped around his body in a haphazard way, as if they didn't quite fit right.

Getafix frowned. "You have no business dabbling in the manners of Druids; you were banished from such practices long ago." Getafix was surprised at his own boldness. His words were certain to strike a nerve in his foe, and that could lead to more of a confrontation than Getafix was ready to come up against. But it was too late; he couldn't back out now. It was true; Mastix _did_ have no right to be using any spells, potions, powders, or anything of any power whatsoever. But, of course, Getafix knew that wouldn't stop someone like Mastix, who already knew quite a bit of druidic practice, and had always been very good at it.

Mastix narrowed his eyes to small, dark slits, but he didn't respond in anger as Getafix had expected. Instead, Mastix gazed around Getafix's hut, taking in the herbs hanging from the ceiling, the different bottled potions that lined the shelves, and the small pouches of magic powder that lay on the table. Most of them looked disturbed, as though someone had been hurriedly sifting through them; searching for something. "You act as though you are more powerful than I," he stated frankly, giving a slight pout. "And maybe you are...but only by a little." His face lit up in a grin that frightened Getafix more than anything he had seen so far. "But that is easily remedied."

Getafix was pretty sure that last part was a threat; though its meaning was unimportant at the moment as far as he was concerned. The druid decided to get right to the point. "You want the Magic Potion, don't you?"

Mastix smiled mockingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the woodwork. "I do believe you've finally got some sense in that head of yours. Took about thirty-five years, but it's a start."

"Well, you're wasting your time here. There is no Magic Potion at the moment, since I have not been around to make any; and I do not plan on making any while you are around."

A shadow of anger crossed Mastix's face and the green glow intensified, finally drawing Getafix's attention. "I tried to make this simple, but I see that is of no use. You will not give me the secret of the potion?"

"No."

"Very well." Mastix raised an arm out toward Getafix, fixing the druid with an evil glare. He rolled his wrist until his hand was facing palm forward, in a stop-like gesture. "Then I shall take it." With that, he closed his open hand into a tight fist, the green light growing to full brightness with a sudden flash.

"Mastix! What are y- Ah!" Getafix cried out as he felt his body freeze painfully. Not a cold kind of freeze; no, there was nothing chilly about this. In fact, it burned! It burned with a fire that made him want to throw himself to the floor to extinguish the flames that seemed to course through him, but that wouldn't do any good; there were no flames. It was an ache; a sting. It was as if his body were being crushed from every direction, pressed by an invisible weight until he was completely immobile. He couldn't even fall to the floor; the spell had him locked on his feet, unable to move, and it was getting increasingly difficult to breath.

Mastix chuckled, coming closer but keeping his hand clenched in front of him. He delighted in the pain he was causing; the agony he read on his adversary's face. "Not so certain of your power now, are you, Getafix. You see, as time has passed, I have only grown stronger. You are no longer any match for me. I can kill you with but a small move of my hand." He tightened his fist and Getafix cried out again as the pain increased. "And there is nothing anyone can do about it."

Getafix closed his eyes, focusing all his strength on filling his lungs with air. He could feel his energy waning; weakening with each passing moment. He tried to fight it, but it was just too strong. The crushing force was beyond any magic he had ever felt...and he was utterly powerless against it.

Mastix smiled, fixing his eyes on him. "Now, let's try it again, Getafix." His voice hardened threateningly. "Will you give me the secret of the Magic Potion, or not?"

**...**

**Whew! That took me forever to write! I probably would have gotten it up a few days ago, but I've been so sick the past week I couldn't even get up the energy to write. But I'm much better now, and I'm ready to launch myself as much into this story as my college schedule will allow! ;)**


	10. Assault

Asterix didn't know where Getafix had gone; not in the slightest. Because of the smaller Gaul's much shorter legs, he had been unable to keep up with the druid's mad rush through the village streets, winding through each path at an incredible rate. Getafix had not mentioned where he was going; but, by their conversation, Asterix guessed the druid was headed for the hut the villagers had assigned to Petunia. It made sense, since it had been the subject of the old woman that had seemed to upset the druid. And so, as fast as he could manage, Asterix made his way for the Northern side of the village.

When he got there he found the place utterly still; calm and tranquil as any other normal day. This hut was far from the noise of the village's center; its nearest neighbor being the quiet cottage that belonged to Getafix. It had been built by a family of Gauls who had long since left to live in Condatum. It had been abandoned for many years; Asterix couldn't even remember it ever having been lived in. Not during his life. But the cottage had been well cared for, being in just as good a shape as any other hut in the village. It was often assigned to guests and visitors, or when family came to call. Especially unwanted family members, such as Impedimenta's brother, Homeopathix. Vitalstitistix was always glad to have that particular hut at their disposal whenever his dreaded brother-in-law paid a visit.

But, as of the moment, there were no signs of any life whatsoever.

Asterix lightly tapped against the portal's frame, gazing about over the half door at what he could see of the inside. The cottage was bright and cheerful, sunlight streaming in through the wooden latticed windows. It was as clean as a whistle; floors swept and walls recently dusted. Obviously the doings of Impedimenta and her group of women followers. Asterix was certain the Chief's wife would have made sure it was spotless for their guest. But that very guest now seemed to be missing. In fact, there was no sign that she had stayed in the little hut at all.

"Hello?...Petunia?...Getafix?!" The blond Gaul's panic began to rise as he realized that this was not where the druid had run to. But where else would Getafix go? Asterix couldn't understand. They had been talking about the old woman; should not that mean that Getafix's concern would be to find her? And if he hadn't gone here, than where else would he expect the woman to be? The little Gaul turned away from the door in frustration. He faced the path again just as the other Gauls caught up with him. They were armed and ready, but obviously confused that any danger would lay within their own walls. The woman were no where in sight, most likely having been convinced by the men that they should stay with the children. It was an opinion that, at the moment, Asterix agreed with. If there was some sort of trouble inside the village, they all wanted the women and children safe.

Chief Vitalstitistix moved to the front, balanced atop his usual perch, a large, round, blue and silver shield. His hand straying near his sword as he looked about them, the black and white feather tufts on his helmet quivering with the movement. "Where's Getafix?" he asked, looking down at the village warrior. He was slightly annoyed that they had been called to arms so early in the morning, especially since there seemed to be nothing out of place. He had been in the middle of a very relaxing breakfast, and was quite irritated that he had been disturbed.

"I don't know," Asterix muttered distractedly. He too was glancing about, trying to calm his heart, which had started to pound in his chest. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he was needed; and not there. From his vantage point he could see quite a few of the other cottages that dotted the circular walled village. He let his eyes wonder over each one as he spoke. "I thought for sure he came this way; but he's not here."

"Are you certain he's not inside," Fulliautomatix called from the crowd of armed men, pointing to the cottage behind Asterix with his mallet. "Maybe he's-"

"He's not here," Asterix repeated, frustration evident in his voice. But then he gave the blacksmith an apologetic look. "I checked."

Obelix came forward to stand beside his short friend. He could tell that Asterix was distraught; seeing it in the way the smaller Gaul held himself. Stiff and tense. As if all the burdens of the world were weighing down on his shoulders. Obelix lay a comforting hand on Asterix's back before allowing his own eyes to search the village's interior. Being the tallest of all the Gauls, by quite a bit, Obelix had a far better vantage point than any of them. He could see much further than the other men; almost to the level of being extraordinary. The Gauls often wondered if the Magic Potion had enhanced Obelix's eyesight along with everything else. It was more than likely.

Obelix shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. By doing so, his view was greatly increased. He roved his large orbs back and forth across each hut, just as he had seen Asterix had do. Suddenly, the big Gaul leaned forward, squinting with interest at something further to the right than any of the others had looked. Eyes widening, Obelix pointed with one large, chubby finger toward that particular direction.

"There's a funny green light coming from Getafix's hut," he commented. He didn't seem disturbed by this observation; mentioning it only because it was a little out of the ordinary.

The other Gauls turned with surprise, finding that Obelix was right. An eerie glow was resonating from within the cottage, pulsating like the beating of a heart. In the summer sunshine it was so faint that, if the interior of the hut hadn't been otherwise pitch black, it would have been unperceivable. But, now that it had been indicated to them, the Gauls could clearly distinguish it.

"What is that?," Cacofonix asked, standing on tiptoe so as to see over the other Gauls' heads. He wasn't short for a Gaul, but he certainly wasn't the tallest. He wasn't as quick as some of the others either, which often left him as one of those straggling behind. He often ended up in the back or middle of the group, making it difficult for him to see all that was happening.

Unhygenix sent the musician a meaningful glare. The fishmonger was still angry with the bard for the damage done to his hut. Even though he knew the whole incident had been nothing more than an accident, it had still greatly frightened Unhygenix. What if that table had fallen on someone? What if it had landed on his family? What if it had been _Cacofonix_ who had fallen rather than the table? Unhygenix would never admit just how much he feared any of those events taking place. And his way of concealing his fear was being mad. It was an emotion he was fairly proficient in displaying. "Don't you think if we knew what is was we wouldn't be standing here looking at it?!" he snapped.

Cacofonix drew back a little. He had forgotten how upset with him Unhygenix still was; what with all the excitement and all. He had hoped that the fishmonger would have let it go by now, but that obviously wasn't the case. Unhygenix wasn't one to let things just roll off his back. If you made him angry, he was angry for a while. A _long_ while. Fulliautomatix could be that way too. Maybe that was why they fought so much. Unfortunately, Cacofonix sometimes fell victim to that animosity, usually quite by accident. The bard nodded his head and lowered his eyes, figuring it would be better if he faded into the crowd and kept quiet.

"Maybe Getafix is working on something," Fulliautomatix asserted, straining his eyes to try and get a better look. "Like a new potion?" It wasn't unusual for their druid to experiment in his skills. The Gauls sometimes forgot that, though to them Getafix was very powerful, as far as druids went he was still learning. And though Getafix had been nominated Druid of the Year some time ago, he was still exploring his capability.

Geriatrix shook his head slowly. "I've known Getafix for a very long time, and I've never seen anything of his glow like that. Not that shade of green." It was true. Though the Magic Potion itself was of a distinct green tint, it was a far less threatening color than that coming from the druid's hut now.

The blacksmith sent the old timer a doubtful look. "How can you even see that far, you old relic?!"

Geriatric's mustache bristled. "Old timer?! Relic?! You bet I am! Why, I remember when you were nothing but a little, lisping-"

"Alright, alright! Cut it out!" their Chief hollered. This was no time for arguing. And knowing his men, an argument would grow very quickly into a full blown fight if not controlled carefully. "You can worry about all that later. We've got more important things to discuss than that."

"So what are we going to do?" one Gaul asked tentatively from under the Chieftain's shield.

Vitalstitistix rubbed his chin indecisively. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed in this situation. Was there a threat or wasn't there? Everything felt so up in the air; he wasn't sure whether they should just send someone to check in on Getafix and then go about their business, or whether they should charge in, assuming something was wrong. What he needed was advice. Normally, he would have turned to their druid. But that, of course, wasn't an option. "Perhaps we should go and investigate," he surmised, "In case something's not quite as it should be. What do you think, Asterix?" He turned to the village warrior, but all he found was empty space where the smaller Gaul had been standing only several moment before. "Asterix?"

The Gauls searched about them, trying to pinpoint where Asterix could have gone. Suddenly, Fulliautomatix gave a shout, pointing in the direction of Getafix's hut. "There he is! How did we miss him?!" The little Gaul must have taken off while they had been talking. It wasn't too long a distance between the two cottages, but they were not directly next to one another either. In order to be as far along as Asterix had managed to get, he must have started running the minute Obelix had pointed out the peculiar glow. He had a good six or seven minute start and had almost reached the druid's hut.

"Come on!," the Chief bellowed, urging his shield bearers to move forward down the hill. The rest of the Gauls followed suit, quickening their pace as their minds tried to wrap around everything that had happened that morning so far. It was confusing; contrasting with the calm that had existed before so abruptly that their heads spun. They could tell something was wrong, though what they had couldn't guess.

But it was time to find out.

* * *

><p>Asterix ran as fast as he could; feet pounding against the soft grass-covered earth as he rushed headlong toward the druid's hut. That feeling of dread was now so strong he felt as though all his senses were screaming for him to hurry; to get to that cottage as fast as humanly possible. He could have used his gourd of Magic Potion, but for some reason, he didn't even think of it. It lay attached to his side, forgotten; the soft sound of its liquid sloshing within its container as he ran. He was aware that he had left the others behind, but he couldn't wait for them. Not with all their indecision and bickering. It would just take too long. He knew they would follow eventually. As for him, when his eyes had fallen upon that sickening, pulsating light; he had known at once that there was no time to waste. His mind switched from villager to protector in a moment; it was his job to make sure that everyone in the village was kept safe. And that included Getafix.<p>

The little Gaul neared the hut, hearing the battle cry as the rest of the villagers behind him finally pursued, just as Asterix reached the door. Without bothering to knock or announce himself in any way, the little warrior threw himself against the wooden portal, pushing through to find a most horrific scene.

The interior of the hut was bathed in a pale, green light. It shone all around, filling the air with a gut-wrenching electricity that made you feel sick at once. As if it were draining all good from the room, trapping in tight the gruesome glow. A humming sound crackled endlessly, shattering the normal quiet of the cottage; buzzing like the strike of ceaseless lightening. But that wasn't the worst of it. As soon as Asterix entered, he spotted Getafix. The druid was standing stiffly, his face screwed up in agony. The sight nearly stopped Asterix's heart all together. Getafix was as still as a statue; frozen in place. The only movement was the heaving of the druid's chest as he seemed to be struggling to take in a sufficient breath. It was the most frightening thing Asterix had ever witnessed in his life.

Not far from Getafix stood yet another man, taller and more strongly built then their druid. He had a long, white beard, just like Getafix, only, perhaps, just a tad bit longer. His clothes were rags; old and worn. They were earthy colors of red and brown; tapping a memory in the back of the little Gaul's mind. They looked familiar; recently familiar. But at the moment, that didn't matter. Asterix noticed with shock that the odd, swirling glow was coming from the stranger, as if he himself were generating it. The man's hand was held in front of him, clenched into a tight fist; eyes fixed on Getafix.

All this takes quite a bit of time to explain, but it all happened very quickly. Asterix was a very clever fellow, and it only took him a moment to realize what was taking place. He might not understand much of how it worked, but Asterix knew magic when he saw it. And this wasn't the light, pleasant, helpful magic that Getafix so often excelled in. This was a dark, threatening, deadly magic. Asterix hurriedly put two and two together, realizing the correlation between the stranger's closed fist and the pain that Getafix was enduring. The little Gaul knew he had to do something.

Luckily, the man's face was not turned directly toward the door and the short Gaul had entered without the stranger knowing. Asterix looked about him frantically, trying to find something he could use to aid his friend. He had to break the spell; it was the only way to free Getafix. The quickest means to do so would be to divert the stranger's attention away from the druid; grab his focus. Asterix was certain of how he could do so, but he needed something first. If there was one thing Getafix had ever taught Asterix about magic, it was that you must never touch someone who is casting a spell with your bare hands. Why? Asterix couldn't recall. But he was sure it was important. Looking about Asterix discovered one of Getafix's many wooden staffs leaning against the wall to his left. Grabbing a rod, the smaller Gaul began tentatively making his way toward the stranger, holding the staff so tightly it made his knuckles white.

Getafix's eyes were scrunched shut it intense pain. Each choking breath was a struggle, just to get it down his throat and into his lungs. He couldn't feel his legs anymore; the burning sensation in his body having turned to a numbness that made him want to drop like a stone. But he couldn't. The spell kept him standing, continuing to crush with an incredible force. The druid was seriously beginning to wonder how much longer his body would be able to take this torture.

"Oh, come, come, Getafix," Mastix hummed, his voice seeming louder; fuller than it had before. He was thoroughly enjoying every moment of his foe's distress, playing with his victim to prolong the suffering. "All you have to do is tell me about one, teeny, tiny potion. That's all. It would save me a lot of time and you a lot of needless pain." He loosened his fist then closed it again rapidly, giving Getafix a chance to take one good breath before the pressure returned full force. "So, why don't you tell me."

"N-no," was all the imprisoned druid could manage. He gasped as the grip around him became impossibly tighter.

Mastix clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. "That is not very wise, my old friend," he warned. "But no matter. You will weaken eventually. My spell will see to that. I had been hoping for a little more of a challenge, really. I admit I am a tad bit disappointed. Your time among these villagers has made you soft and weak." He threw back his head, giving a dark cackle; but his glee was cut short by an angry voice just behind him.

"That's funny; I always thought that was what gave him the most strength!"

Before Mastix could recover from his surprise, something hard was swung into his body's right side. It wasn't a terribly violent blow; lacking the force it could have held, but it was a harsh hit nonetheless. Mastix stumbled back with a loud shout of pain, fist unclenching as he clutched his stinging ribs. The attack was just what was required to sufficiently break Mastix's concentration; and his spell. With a desperate gasp, Getafix was finally released from his adversary's hold, sinking to his knees on the floor; exhausted. With immense relief, the druid gulped in great lungfuls of air; the fresh breaths easing the burning in his chest. But his relief was short lived, when he realized who was now defending him from Mastix's tremendous wrath.

Mastix regained his breath with difficulty, rubbing his throbbing side with a dark, angry growl. The green glow had nearly gone out when he had been struck, but now Mastix re-illuminated the room to full strength. His hate-filled eyes flitted back and forth before they landed on the short, blond Gaul who was now standing between him and Getafix. Mastix recognized him as the little warrior; the Gaul who he had first met in the forest. The only Gaul he had not been able to gain the trust of, even in his disguise as Petunia. The little fellow had been a nuisance from the very start. Now, he was a threat to his goal.

Asterix stood firmly between his fallen friend and the stranger. Gripped in both hands was the staff that he had hit the intruder with, though Asterix had made sure not to smash it too hard into the man's ribs. Even in this desperate situation, the little Gaul couldn't bring himself to do any serious harm. But, if need be, he'd rather put himself in the attacker's path than let his friends suffer.

"That...That was a very foolish thing to do...my little fellow," Mastix panted threateningly. He stepped forward menacingly, fixing the newcomer with a hateful glare. It bore into Asterix; reaching, as if the man could kill him with nothing but a glance. But Asterix was too upset to be bothered by that.

"Foolish or no, I did what I had to," Asterix countered. He quickly glanced down at Getafix, who was just beginning to try and rise up from the shadowed floor. The druid seemed to be finding it difficult to move, and therefore couldn't ascend any higher than a wobbly half kneel. Asterix looked back toward the stranger, looking him right in the eyes. It was then that Asterix noticed something odd about the man. His eyes; they looked so familiar... A barely distinguishable brown color, but almost completely invaded by dark, black pupils. Asterix gasped. "You're the old woman!" That discovery was soon followed by an intense feeling of guilt. A threatening foe had managed to slip into the village, under his very nose. He had failed to discover the danger in time, and now Getafix had been hurt Toutatis knew how badly.

"A-Asterix..."

The small Gaul moved back a little and crouched beside the druid, all the while keeping his eyes locked with the stranger still recovering in the corner. "Getafix, are you alright?"

"I...I think so," the druid replied shakily. He tried to rise again, but once more found he couldn't. "B-but I can't seem to feel my legs." He had finally caught his breath, and the fiery pain had left him, leaving only a dull ache were the burning sensation had been. But his lower limbs felt numb; like they weren't even there and he couldn't move them. It was maddening. Getafix couldn't even stand to help Asterix confront Mastix; something he desperately wanted to do. He couldn't help his friend. By Toutatis; at the moment, he couldn't even help himself!

The druid's words frightened Asterix terribly; but also filled the little Gaul with great anger. He stood up fiercely, stomping closer to the enemy with a look of fury on his face. "What did you do to him?," he demanded, brandishing the staff toward Mastix's already bruised middle. But the stranger looked down at the sturdy stick, then turned his gaze away with a smirk, as though he wasn't the least bit concerned.

"This is one of the Gauls for whom you make the Magic Potion, Getafix?" Mastix scoffed, "Seems a bit of a waste, don't you think? Too bad you don't have the sense to make it for one who can use its power for more constructive purposes."

Getafix managed to shift his legs toward himself slightly; just barely enough to perceiveably count. It was hard, and a little painful, but it was more mobility than he had had a few moments ago. _Thank Toutatis! The__paralyzation __was not permanent!_ "I will never give you the Magic Potion, Mastix. Not now, and certainly not any time in the future. You can do what you want with me, but you'll never get it."

Mastix gave an exaggerated sigh. "Getafix, Getafix, Getafix; what am I going to do with you. You refuse to give me what I want, and even when I _insist_, you still won't comply." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his next words were more to himself than the other two men in the room. "Well, I could always threaten to kill the old fool...Oh, but that would never do. He knows I won't kill him because I want the potion. No Getafix; no potion. But..." His eyes lit up with inspiration. "Aha...New plan!" Before either Asterix or Getafix could react, Mastix stretched his arm out once more, clenching his hand into a tight fist. The green light increased tremendously without any warning, but this time the spell wasn't directed at Getafix. It was directed at Asterix.

The little Gaul gave a gasp of pain, dropping the staff to the floor. He tried to fight the numbing agony that abruptly washed over him, but there was nothing he could do. A crashing weight surrounded him on all sides, spreading a burning fire all through him and restricting his ability to breath. His eyes snapped shut as he did his best to keep from yelling out.

Getafix's eyes widened in fear. He finally managed to scramble to his feet, using the nearby table and his arms to rise shakily. His legs still wouldn't function completely, leaving him to cling to the counter in desperation. "Mastix! Stop! Stop it!"

"Oh, my friend," Mastix explained with mock sympathy, "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, there's a matter of getting what I want. And since you care nothing for your own safety, you force me to use more..._persuasive_ _measures_." He tightened his fist, delighting in Getafix's distress at Asterix's choked cry.

Getafix turned his gaze back and forth between his friend, held pressed painfully in the grips of a dangerous spell, and his enemy, smiling triumphantly. "Mastix...Please-"

"Asterix! Getafix! Are you in there?!"

The rest of the Gauls suddenly burst through the door, led by their Chief, who was now dismounted from his shield. The menfolk took in the scene at a glance; Getafix leaning weakly against the table, Asterix standing stiffly to the side surrounded by a pale green light, and the tall stranger gazing at them from the corner. They didn't understand exactly what was happening, but they were aware that something wasn't right. Fulliautomatix rushed forward to help support their druid, sending the strange man a suspicious look.

"Hey, who are y-?" the blacksmith began, but was cut off as he staggered under the unexpected weight of Getafix. The Gauls looked on in shock, realizing that the druid was too weak to stand. Fulliautomatix looked back to the mysterious man. "What...what have you done to him?"

Mastix was still smiling calmly, despite the fact that he was now greatly outnumbered. "He and I have been having a little..._discussion_."

The Gauls turned their eyes to the only person in the room who had not yet spoken. The one person they would have expected to be talking in a situation like this. But Asterix was very still; frozen in place. His eyes were closed tightly, but the unmistakable look of pain was hard for any of the men to miss. Obelix felt his temper rise, as well as his fear; stomping forward purposefully.

"Ah, ah, ah," Mastix chided, "I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

Obelix paused, uncertain. "Why not?"

"Because, I can kill your little friend at any time."

Asterix gasped loudly, as another wave of pain shuttled through him. He struggled to pull away from the invisible force, but to no avail. It was far to strong to be broken. The more he tried to fight it, the harder the force pressed. Obelix and the other Gauls turned very pale, taking note of the odd green light that seemed to be most concentrated around the stranger and their friend.

"Y-you're...you're a druid!" Cacofonix squeaked, voicing what the others were thinking as well.

"Mmh, of sorts," Mastix smiled, but then his face hardened in evil intent. "But I have wasted enough time in this place. Getafix, if you do not give me the secret of your Magic Potion," he smiled at Asterix, "you're little companion will die a terribly painful death."

The druid was far paler than any of the others. His legs were beginning to gain some of their old strength, allowing Getafix to shift some of his weight from the blacksmith's arm to his own two feet. But he stayed were he was, his eyes trained on Asterix. The druid knew what the little Gaul must be enduring; the burning; the dreadful, numbing pain; and the terrible, crushing pressure. He had barely been able to stand it himself; but to see Asterix in such agony was far worse.

"Mastix..."

"Make your decision, Getafix; or this village will be down one little '_warrior_'."

Getafix exchanged frightened glances with the other villagers. They were all looking to him, worry etched into their expressions. Worry and confusion; a confusion that only made their worry more intense. Getafix's eyes shifted, meeting the small-eyed gaze of Obelix. The big Gaul's expression pierced the druid's very soul; a beam of terror and rage and barely concealed panic. Every negative emotion possible was in those eyes, looking to Getafix; begging for some confirmation that everything was going to be alright. But the druid couldn't give it. He didn't know whether things would turn out for better or worse. Mastix had the upper hand no matter what they did. If Getafix gave Mastix the potion, Toutatis knew what the twisted man would do with it. But, if Getafix refused, Asterix would die. Right then and there. In front of everyone. In front of Obelix...No; that couldn't happen.

Getafix lowered his eyes to the floor. Asterix's life was to precious a thing to trade for even the greatest of spells or potions. Any life was. Getafix nodded slowly, "I'll-"

"N-no! Geta-fix, d-don't! Aah!" Asterix managed to yell before his words broke into a agonized scream. It shattered the silence loudly, causing everyone present to flinch in horror. The little Gaul was nearly unconscious now, barely gaining any air at all; his breath cut off to the point were his head was beginning to spin. His thinking was becoming unfocused; hazy. But one thought echoed over and over in his fading mind. Getafix would do it. Getafix would give this monster the Magic Potion, and the village's safety would forever after be at risk. All to save one life; his life. But he wasn't that important; not when his life was weighed with the large number of Gauls that would suffer if he lived. And so, as the last spark of his consciousness began to leave him, Asterix decided he was willing to die to save his friends.

Mastix could feel the energy draining from his prisoner. The little Gaul was passing out; succumbing to the pure strain of his powerful spell. Mastix grinned, reveling in Asterix's pain. He turned to remark to the bystanders of the fact that their friend was fading, when suddenly an unbelievably bright flash of golden light filled the hut. Its blinding blaze was accompanied by a small shock wave that threw everyone to the floor, including Mastix, who cried out in surprise and pain. His spell was broken immediately, releasing Asterix from his grip with a jolt. Obelix ran forward, catching a semi-conscious Asterix as the little Gaul collapsed limply into his arms. The green glow disappeared in the stunning atmosphere of golden shafts of brilliant light. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the light vanished, leaving all present blinking and rubbing their eyes in confusion and worry; seeing spots from the unexpectedly luminous explosion.

For the first time since he had arrived in the village, Mastix looked truly frightened. He was leaning with his back pressed against the far wall, breathing hard with eyes wide in shock. His startled gaze was fixed on Asterix, who was being gently supported by his large friend, only half conscious. The other Gauls were starting to angrily make their way toward Mastix, but the villain didn't seem to notice. He remained with his eyes locked on the little blond Gaul. Suddenly, his stunned expression began to change; curling his mouth into a thin, evil smile. He raised his hands, surrounding himself in that same green light, and then, all at once, he disappeared.

The Gauls pulled up short; shocked.

"Where'd he go?!"

"He just vanished into thin air!"

"Nonsense! No one just vani-"

"Well, _he_ did!"

"Stop!" Getafix shouted shakily. He had finally gained enough mobility to stumble forward and kneel beside Obelix. He quickly reached for Asterix's pulse, relieved to feel a strong heartbeat coming from his friend; though he noted it was a little faster than normal. "Quick, help me get him to the cot! Someone light the fireplace and open all the windows!" He tried to get up to assist himself, but he didn't make it back into a standing position. His body refused to work any longer, and he fell back to the floor with a frustrated grunt. "Oh, for Toutatis' sake!"

The druid felt a hand on his shoulder, and, upon looking up, found it was Vitalstitistix. "We'll take care of it, Getafix," the Chief urged, "Just rest for a moment." He and Fulliautomatix moved to help carry Asterix to the small bed in the corner of Getafix's hut, but Obelix stood to do the task himself.

The big Gaul gently laid his friend on top of the woolen sheets, making sure to remove the winged helmet. He felt his throat tighten as he gazed at the still form. Asterix had been so tired and worn-looking even before this incident; now, he looked even worse. He was pale; terribly pale. His breathing, though steady, was slightly raspy, as if he had been badly choked. On his bare arms, dark bruises were beginning to appear, looking very painful. Obelix wasn't sure how they had gotten there, but he was certain the stranger had been responsible. The big Gaul decided right then and there that he disliked that man very, _very_ much.

Fulliautomatix and the other villagers helped Getafix up off the floor and brought him over to a chair. They noticed that the druid was nearly as haggard as their warrior. They were confused; not understanding what had happened.

"Getafix...What did that man want? Who is he?" Unhygenix asked; everyone glancing back toward the corner where the intruder had disappeared. The thought of the villain willed their hearts with fear and dread. He had managed to best both Asterix and Getafix, leaving both exhausted and battered. It didn't set well in their minds. They felt exposed and unsafe.

Getafix closed his eyes as he fought against the urge to collapse himself. He glanced up at the fishmonger with a desperate look, one that didn't bring the village men any comfort. He lowered his eyes to look at Asterix, so still and silent on the cot.

"An enemy," he murmured faintly, "A very dangerous and deadly foe."

**...**

**Ah, there. Finished it. My sister was very upset when I left the other chapter on a cliff-hanger. I promised her I'd get the next one up as soon as I could. Well, there it is. :)**


	11. Calm Before the Storm

Something cold and clammy pressed itself gently against Asterix's forehead, and he instinctively tried to push it away. But when he raised a hand to do so, his limb felt as heavy as lead, refusing to function the way he wanted. He felt that same cold touch shift to take careful hold of his wrist, forcing it carefully back down onto...whatever he was lying on. Asterix became aware that everything was terribly dark around him, and for a moment he almost panicked. But then he realized that the reason was that his eyes were closed. Funny. He didn't remember falling asleep. But it was time to wake up now, he was sure; and so, groggily, he forced his eyes to open.

It was far harder to do than he would have expected. Like his lids were being weighed down; heavy and uncooperative. When he finally did manage to raise them, his winced painfully at the sudden brightness the action caused to suddenly shine in his eyes. He tried to block the light with his hand, but again it refused to cooperate. He blinked furiously, finding his sight blurry and unfocused. All he could see was a shifting mess of colors and light, and even that was beyond what the smaller Gaul felt he could handle at the moment. Asterix discovered he had a most terrific headache; the kind that settles right behind your eyes. It pounded away in his skull, like the beat of a drum, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own heartbeat he was hearing.

A voice that seemed painfully loud erupted beside him. "Getafix! Look, he's waking up!"

"Shh!" Came another, far softer than the first. "Not so loud. If he feels half as bad as I do, he's not going to appreciate too much noise."

It was Getafix's voice, the little Gaul concluded. But why was...? Suddenly, everything came back to him with a rush. The old woman; Getafix's return; the stranger; the spell; and that horrible _pain_. With a jolt, Asterix became fully conscious and attempted to sit up. It was more of a floundering motion, since his legs felt oddly numb, but the little Gaul was bound and determined to move. Again a cold hand latched onto him, but this time it helped him up rather than held him down. The blur beside him was white, testifying that it was indeed the village druid.

"Now, take it easy, Asterix," Getafix warned gently. His voice carried with it an immense amount of concern. "You are going to feel a little numb at first. Just relax; it will fade shortly."

"What...What happened?" Asterix croaked. His throat was very dry, making it feel even more rough than it already did. He became aware of how sore he was; all over. It felt as if he had been badly beaten; bruised and battered. As he finally made it to a sitting position, his eyes started to come into focus; slowly. He looked carefully about him, not too surprised to find himself still within the druid's hut. What he _did_ find surprising was that almost the entire population of the village appeared to be congregated around the room, all looking very concerned. Even the women and children were present. It left very little space, but they all had managed to squeeze in, somehow. The blond Gaul turned his questioning eyes back to Getafix.

"I...I remember the stranger," Asterix recalled haltingly, "And...and what he did. Then there was a...bright flash." He attempted to raise his hand to his head and was relieved to find that he was a little more successful than before. "Why can't I seem to move right?"

Getafix nodded from his seat on the side on the cot. "Mastix had you in some sort of paralyzing spell. It is not permanent, thank Toutatis, but it will take several moments to wear off." The druid leaned forward and felt the little Gaul's forehead once more. He shook his head. "You have got a bit of a temperature too. But that should also fade. How do you feel otherwise?"

Asterix shifted on the sheets uncomfortably. "Sore." But then he remembered that he hadn't been the only one to be attacked. He sat up straighter, focusing completely on his friend. "Getafix, are you hurt?! That man used the spell on you as well!"

"I'm fine, Asterix," the druid assured, "Though a I think I may have pulled a muscle or two. It seems that Mastix didn't hit me as hard as he did you." His voice carried a tone of anger at that. And it seemed to be true. The druid appeared to be perfectly mobile now, though perhaps a little stiff. The stranger must have held back with Getafix, not wanting to kill him; but with Asterix he had let loose, surging as much power into the spell as possible.

Asterix looked down at himself, noting the dark, black and purple bruises that checkered his bare arms. He touched them gingerly with a wince. He looked up to give the rest of the villagers an encouraging smile, trying to ease their worry that showed so strongly in their expressions. Asterix suddenly noted that someone was missing.

"Where's Obelix?" Not knowing where his friend was frightened Asterix badly. He couldn't remember all that had happened with the stranger, and he was all at once very scared that something might have happened to his big companion. Obelix would have been the first to be at his side otherwise.

Getafix allayed his fears quickly however. "I sent him to go fetch a few ingredients I need. I am sure you are experiencing a rather unpleasant headache?"

Asterix nodded, regretting it immediately. The motion only succeeded in making his head pound harder.

"As am I." The druid ran a hand over his face tiredly. "That is why I sent Obelix. He was very worried about you, and he needed something to keep him busy. He should be back any-"

"Asterix!"

As if on cue, the Gauls had to make a quick path as Obelix came barreling through the door. His arms were full of several stalks of some strange, bush-like plant that was known to grow on the Eastern side of the village. He dumped the load of greenery into Fulliautomatix's arms, running forward to stand beside the bed. He lay a gentle hand on Asterix's shoulder, mindful of the bruises. His eyes were full of concern, searching his friend over as if he expected to find some frightful injury.

"Asterix, you're...you're alright?"

The little Gaul gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Obelix; just a little tired."

Obelix didn't seem convinced. Asterix looked terrible; what with him being as pale as he was, and the dark circles under his eyes. The bruising marks on his arms only increased his exhausted, haggard look, making Obelix wish that there was something he could do to get rid of them. The big Gaul remained where he was, continuing to keep his hand rested on his friend's shoulder. It was as if he believed that, if he were to let go, Asterix would fade away altogether.

The little Gaul glanced back to their druid, who had already taken the herbs from Fulliautomatix and brought them over to his cauldron in the fireplace. He noticed with relief that Getafix had regained the use of his legs; though he still seemed a little slow and unsteady. But he saw that the druid had been correct; Getafix seemed far less affected by the stranger's spell than Asterix himself had been. The younger Gaul was more spent; drained.

"How long was I out?," was the next question that came to Asterix's lips.

"A-about an hour," Vitalstitistix spoke up from the group. The look of guilt on his face was unmistakable. In fact, every one of the Gauls looked absolutely miserable. They all felt horrible that Asterix had been hurt so badly, especially since the way they had treated him the day before. It had been torture to see their friend so helpless; struck down for their sake. They could never repay that. They could never repay anything Asterix had ever done for them. The little warrior always put their needs before his own. Always put his safety at risk, just so they could be secure. Asterix had been their hero again and again, for years...and they had treated him as if he were nothing but a bother; a nuisance. It took a disaster like this to make them remember how important Asterix was to them. And of that they were truly ashamed.

Asterix seemed disturbed by the fact that he had been unconscious for so long. So much time had been wasted. There was no doubt in the blond Gaul's mind that this Mastix fellow would return, and if their first meeting was anything to go by, Asterix knew they were all in great danger. The side of him that was the village's warrior stepped forward, pushing his needs aside. He shifted himself on the bed until his legs were dangling over the edge, preparing to test his ability to stand. The reaction of his fellow Gauls was immediate. They all rushed to stop him, quickest of all being Obelix.

"Asterix," Getafix chided firmly, coming forward and taking hold of his arm to keep him from getting up. "You are not yet recovered enough to leave this cot." His voice was firm; demanding, but his expression was softer, begging Asterix not to push himself too far before he was ready.

But Asterix refused to cater to his own needs. "Getafix, we don't have time," the smaller Gaul contended; though he made no more attempts to rise. "We have to find a way to defend ourselves against this intruder, before he returns." The others reluctantly agreed.

"But what I don't understand," Fulliautomatix spoke up, "Is why he targeted our druid. I mean, a man as powerful as he obviously is, what use would he have for the Magic Potion?"

Getafix seemed to cringe slightly at the question. He had never mentioned Mastix to anyone; not since he had come to the village all those years ago. Only those in the Carnutes knew about the man, and Getafix had purposefully kept any knowledge of the dark druid a secret from his Gaulish friends. The sinister days of the Druidic past had no place in the light-filled world of the innocent Gauls. But now, that could no longer be the case. That same darkness that had shadowed Getafix's life thirty-five years ago, had found him once more; and the villagers were now as involved in this as he was. And, no matter how much Getafix wished that wasn't the case, there was no way to change it. Not now.

"Mastix and I...knew one another," the druid responded slowly, returning to his bubbling cauldron.

"What do you mean?" Unhygenix asked.

Getafix gazed into the boiling water, ripping up a few of the herbs Obelix had brought and throwing them in. "He and I were both apprenticed under the some mentor. He and I...grew up together." He could feel the surprise coming from the others behind his back. Getafix had known that the news would come as rather a shock to them; he had expected that.

Vitalstitistix voiced what they were all thinking. "You...you mean you two were _friends_?!"

"No!"

All the villagers flinched, having not expected the druid to answer so harshly. Getafix regretted it immediately. He was letting his emotions take control of him again. Just like they used to, back in the Carnutes. Mastix had shaken the very foundations of his life then, and he was doing so again. Getafix turned to face them, looking them all in the eyes.

"No. Mastix and I were never friends." He lowered his gaze to the herb in his hands, studying it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "Mastix was often unkind to me, as well as many of the other apprentices. He craved power, and was willing to commit a most terrible crime to do so." He paused, expecting, as well as dreading, that one of the Gauls would ask what that crime had been. Thankfully, no one did. Perhaps they were able to tell how hard a subject this was for their druid, and didn't want to cause him anymore discomfort. "Mastix was banished; forced to leave the Carnutes, never to use his power again in our midst."

"But that still doesn't explain why he came here. And why he wants the potion," Fulliautomatix observed. He had his wife standing beside him, and he was lightly griping the shoulders of his little son and daughter. All the Gauls were beginning to look quite frightened.

Getafix sighed. "He is here because, after years of trying to be the best, he has failed. Among the druids," here he appeared rather embarrassed, "I am the most renowned..."

"Because of the Magic Potion," Asterix finished. Everything was starting to make sense.

"Exactly. Mastix wants to be at the top, but he can't because I'm in his way. He still thinks that he can redeem himself somehow. If he has the Magic Potion, there will be nothing to stop him from being the best." Getafix looked to Asterix worriedly. "And he won't let anything,...or _anyone_, stand between him and that goal."

The Gauls all lowered their eyes, knowing that those words were a direct warning to Asterix himself. Of all of them, everyone knew the little Gaul would fight this new threat. Of all of them, he would be the most opposition to Mastix. Next to Getafix, Asterix was most at risk. A hush fell over the interior of the hut.

Asterix gazed around at his friends' downcast faces. Their expressions tugged at his heart, making him wish there was some way to fix this whole mess. At the moment, he had no idea how to do anything of the kind. But what he _did_ know was that they couldn't give up.

"We can fight this," Asterix said encouragingly. The others lifted their eyes to look at him. "We've faced problems, and troubles, and disaster, but we've never given up. Caesar has tried; Gracchus Armisurplus has tried; Commander Spacious* has tried; but they have never been able to defeat us. If we stay together, we can win. We can overcome any obstacle when there's hope and a will." To prove his point, Asterix pushed himself up off the bed, standing unsteadily to his feet. Obelix reached out to give him support, but Asterix gently turned his offer down. He regained his balance, finally standing on his own two feet, albeit a little shakily. He smiled at his friends, nodding in confidence. "We can win."

The little Gaul's courage and enthusiasm spread to the villagers like a warming glow. It was true; they had faced many dangers together. Times got tough, especially when you were nothing but a small, isolated village in a world where everyone wanted you wiped off the face of the Earth. They were more of a family than a village. They looked after one another; worked to ensure each other's safety. They had never let anything defeat them before, and they were determined not to let anything defeat them in the future. If Asterix, after almost being killed by that...that madman, was able to stand there with hope in his heart, then so could they.

Getafix looked on in pride. He sometimes forgot how brave Asterix truly was; how calm, even in the face of danger. It was rare when the little Gaul had to confront a villain as monstrous and sinister as Mastix. In fact, Getafix doubted Asterix had ever been pitted against such a formidable foe. They had always had magic on their side, and there was little Caesar or anyone else could do against that. But this was different. This was magic against magic; and Mastix was strong. It would be a struggle; one that Getafix prayed wouldn't end in tragedy.

"So," Asterix asked, turning to the druid. "What do we do now?"

Getafix passed him a small beaker of the contents from his cauldron with a chuckle. "Well, first I would recommend you drink this. It will help with the pain." Asterix opened his mouth to protest, but Getafix cut him off. "And don't bother denying it. You _are_ in pain, and you know it. Now, drink."

Asterix complied, taking note that the druid drank some as well. The potion was warm, and Asterix could feel it slide all the way down his throat. He felt almost immediate relief; his head and other hurts returning a little closer to normal.

"First things first," Getafix continued, "We must make sure Mastix doesn't get what he wants."

"Which is the Magic Potion," Vitalstitistix added.

"Right. I have not made any recently, since I was away. There is none for him to take..." Getafix suddenly looked a little ill. "...Except for that which Asterix carries."

All eyes turned to the small, green gourd that hung from Asterix's belt.

"Mastix will be looking for the potion, either by returning, or by using his magic," Getafix continued slowly. "He will discover that our warrior is in possession of the only amount available and..." He looked even more ill. "Asterix..."

The blond Gaul already knew what the druid was thinking. He took the container from his side, clutching it in his hands as if he were reluctant to let it go. "Getafix, I won't let Mastix-"

"No, Asterix" the druid said firmly. "I will not allow you to be put in danger just because a bit of potion is in your care. Mastix _will_ find out. Then your life wouldn't be worth one denarius...Pour it out."

A gasp went up from the gathered villagers. They all knew how important that small amount of potion had always proved to be in the past. It was often the item that saved them in their most desperate hour. To take that away was like pulling the safety net out from underneath a performing acrobat. It was taking away just another small fraction of their chance of survival. But Getafix was right. They couldn't let Mastix have what he wanted. Asterix having the potion would only endanger them all, but especially Asterix. It may be that, this time, it would be their undoing rather than their salvation.

Asterix looked at the gourd in his hands. It was worn from years of use; having been carried with him on every adventure he had ever set out on. It was something that Asterix had always relied on; always there no matter what. Even in their darkest hours, it had been that one, little advantage that always made a _huge_ difference. And now, Getafix was telling him to throw it away. The very thought of not having it made Asterix worried and nervous. But he trusted the druid's judgement; and so, unscrewing the cap and tipping the gourd, Asterix poured its contents onto the hut's dirt floor. The dust sucked up the greenish-gold liquid, until every last drop was drained.

Asterix let the empty gourd fall to the floor. They all looked at it, as if it foretold of how everything was going to turn out in the end. A small amount of their despair returned; even Asterix felt it this time. It was always very frightening when they didn't have any Magic Potion. The last time, they had very nearly come to disaster*. But Asterix knew that their courage was just as strong as any potion, and that was what they would have to rely on now.

"We can do this," the little Gaul stated once more, eyes still locked on the gourd. He smiled, raising them to Getafix. "Besides, we have a druid of our own. The _best_ druid, no less. Mastix may find we're a little more of a challenge than he first thought."

Getafix grinned at the compliment. "I will see what I can do to prevent Mastix from doing any more harm. I am certain there must be a spell sufficient to do so in here somewhere." He gestured to the shelves of hand-written manuscripts around him; his collection of spells.

"What about the spell you used on Mastix earlier?" Cacofonix spoke up. He had been so quiet up until now, most had forgotten he was even there.

Getafix blinked in confusion. "Earlier?"

"Yes. When Asterix was freed from Mastix's spell. The bright flash of golden light."

Their druid's face became clouded with confusion. In truth, Getafix had been so concerned for Asterix that he hadn't really paid all that much attention to the event at the time. But now, as he thought back, he realized that the bard was right. There _had_ been a powerful explosion of bright, golden light. But it had most certainly _not_ come from him.

"That was not me," Getafix confessed, "Though I wish I could say it was."

"Then what was it?" Impedimenta asked. Though she had not been there at the time, all the women had been informed of the mornings events. She was quite concerned, as were the rest of the womenfolk.

"I do not know." Getafix ran a hand down his beard in thought. "It's possible that Mastix's spell somehow redirected. That could happen, if it was an unsteady sort of spell. It could slip, much like your foot can shift beneath you and throw off your balance. That might do the trick. But Mastix's spell appeared to be quite stable..."

"Well, whatever the reason, it's in the past," Asterix chimed in. They had wasted enough time. They had to find a way to defend themselves before Mastix decided to pay another visit. "We need to get to work. Getafix, Obelix and I will assist you." The little Gaul turned to the others. "The rest of you go and find something to keep your minds off this whole matter." The Gauls seemed reluctant to leave. "I promise I'll come and get you the moment we find a solution," Asterix promised.

The villagers nodded. Asterix's word was good enough for them. Shuffling out the door, they headed off to attend to their usual, daily chores. Asterix, Obelix, and Getafix remained.

"Alright," the blond Gaul announced. "Let's get to it."

* * *

><p>Deep within the recesses of the forest outside the village, darkness seemed to reside in one particular clearing. A black, depressing mist that blocked out the rays of the summer sun like a veil. It swirled in the treetops like an inky fog, wrapping and twisting among the once green leaves. Now the foliage was dead, drained of its life by the dark force around it. Lack of sun and good had choked it out, leaving nothing but shriveled pods of brown.<p>

Below, in the middle of the clearing, Mastix sat at a small table he had fashioned from a log. On it was one, solitary candle; the only light to be found in this evil camp. Illuminated by its flickering flame was a book, old and worn. Mastix flipped through its many pages, finger tracing the words of each leaflet as his eyes roved through its contents. All at one he paused, eyes widening as he finally discovered the chapter he had been searching for. He read over the faded, garbled words and flipped to the next page, the memory of the scrawls returning to him at each line. He smiled nastily, letting out a dark chuckle. Getting up and moving over to his collection of portable supplies, he began to sift through the objects, selecting the ingredients he would need.

Behind him the book lay opened, still illuminated by the fading candlelight. The page fluttered in a sudden breeze, blowing back to the chapters title. It read:

The Spell of Extraction.

**...**

*** Yes, this is the same Commander Spacious from my story Safe and Sound. I couldn't help mentioning him. :)**

***Another small reference to my story Safe and Sound.**

**There we go. A little shorter than some of the other chapters, but I thought it was important to have a chapter that served as a sort of breather. I needed the characters to sit back a moment and do some reviewing and discussing. They needed a little break before the next stage in their adventure begins.**


	12. Concealed Past

Getafix rustled through the overwhelmingly large pile of parchments and home-bound tomes. He wrinkled his nose, trying not to sneeze as immeasurable amounts of dust was dislodged from the books to float in the air around him. It was a nightmare. Over thirty-five years worth of notes, scrawls, thoughts, observations, successes and failures, all kept in a dreadful mess; stored in no particular order whatsoever. The druid greatly regretted that he had never addressed his unfortunate habit for being untidy. He may have attempted once or twice to categorize them; tried to weed out the ramblings from the actual spells, but those attempts were far in the past by now, and would be of no useful purpose to dwell on.

It was frustrating; especially since they were in such a rush. Getafix found that he had to force himself to slow down, as he had started to drop things, making it even harder to proceed in their task. His nerves were truly on edge, even though the druid did his best to hide it. Mastix could return at any point, and they might not be so fortunate the next time round. The dark druid's magic was far stronger than it had ever been. It was stronger than any magic Getafix had ever seen, or even heard of. That crushing weight of the paralyzing spell had been so stable, leaving visible marks on both himself and Asterix. Spells of that sort usually weren't physical. They were more often an illusion, tricking the senses into believing that there was physical pain. But Mastix had somehow achieved some form of magic beyond that, being able to inflict real, concrete harm.

Beside him, Asterix and Obelix helped shift the papers from the many shelves and cubbyholes; carrying them over to the table where they could be spread out and looked through. Obelix could haul much more at a time, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It meant that Asterix was left with less to carry. The little Gaul was still wobbling on his legs a bit, but he had healed considerably faster than Getafix had anticipated. Probably because Asterix was far younger than the elderly druid; he had therefore recovered more swiftly. But the short Gaul looked tired and worn, making Getafix wonder if perhaps his friend had been feeling unwell before the incident with Mastix.

Of the druid's two companions, Asterix was the most motivated; moving along at a fast, concentrated pace. He had a village to protect, and that was enough to make him work as quickly and efficiently as he could. The threat of the looming darkness was a dull cloud in the back of the little Gaul's mind, forever reminding him of the 'what if's and 'could happen's should they fail to find a solution in time. He couldn't bare to see any of his friends suffer at Mastix's hand. Seeing Getafix trapped in that horrible spell had been heartrending enough. But this village was full of men, women, and children; they needed to be kept safe at all cost. Every last Gaul was important, and Asterix was determined to put their lives before his own if need be. Though, as he shuffled through the endless mess of druidic notes, Asterix fervently hoped it would never come to that.

Obelix, on the other hand, still didn't quite understand everything that had taken place so far. He didn't understand why Mastix would want the Magic Potion. Getafix had said he wanted it for the power, but that still didn't make sense to Obelix. He had fallen into the potion when he was just a little boy, giving him incredible strength. As far as anyone knew, Obelix was the strongest human being in the world. And yet, he didn't see what it had done to him that Mastix would want. The evil man already had deadly powers, as shown by the magic he had used against both Asterix and Getafix. What would strength add to that? As far as Obelix knew, there was no connection between physical strength and magical strength. After all, whenever Getafix drank the Magic Potion, which he rarely did, he became outwardly strong, just like the rest of them. But it didn't improve his magic; nor did it advance the druid's knowledge in any way. There was no connection. And it confused Obelix terribly.

"Why does Mastix think the Magic Potion will make him so powerful, Getafix?" the big Gaul finally asked. His question broke a silence that had lasted for the last several minutes.

The druid answered without looking up from the heavy volume he was inspecting. "It's not so much that he thinks it will make him powerful, Obelix," Getafix did his best to explain. "It's more symbolic."

"Symbolic?"

"Yes. As a sort of trophy; a sign of achievement. He will be considered the best because he holds what is considered to be the best." Getafix finally looked up, taking in Obelix's puzzled expression. The druid sighed. "Mastix thinks that if he takes the Magic Potion from me, I will be left less powerful, therefore making him more powerful. Do you understand?"

Obelix would have _liked_ to say that he understood completely, but that would have been a lie. But he didn't want to frustrate the druid any more than he already had, so he settled for middle ground. "A little." They turned back to their task, putting the papers that had already been searched through into a stack on the floor. There was silence again, before Obelix voiced his next question. "What do you think Mastix will do when he finds out he won't be getting any potion from us?"

Getafix had been wondering that himself. "I am...not certain. We could always hope that he would just turn around and leave...but, somehow, I don't see that happening. Mastix was always very persistent. He won't be pleased, and he may continue to try and take it by force, like he attempted to do earlier. His power has grown since we were both apprenticed in the Carnutes...I am not even certain of what he is fully capable now."

"You...you don't think he'll try to...to hurt you or Asterix again, do you?" Obelix wished desperately that Getafix would allay his fears. He sent Asterix a quick glance, knowing that his friend was listening even though he was focused on digging through the parchments.

Getafix wanted to comfort the big Gaul, just as much as Obelix wanted to be comforted, but to do so would be giving false hope. "Yes, Obelix. I believe he will try. Preferably, he will want to cripple me, and will do so by any means...even by harming one of you, or the other villagers."

Obelix's eyes widened in disbelief. "But...but that's not right!" he declared angrily, but with a strong tone of fear behind it. "Surely he wouldn't attack the woman or...the...children...?" His voice trailed off as Getafix shook his head sadly.

"Mastix will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. That is why he was banished."

"Just what did he do?" Asterix's voice came from the dusty corner, where he was almost completely invisible behind a growing stack of thick, old books. "It must have been pretty bad to be forced to leave."

The two Gauls missed the shadow that fell across their druid's face. Getafix's mind flew back to that terrible, fateful night all those many years ago. He still remembered it clearly; every sound, sight, and feel. It still hurt emotionally, just as it had then. Getafix really didn't want to discuss it. Not at all. But he owed it to his friends to warn them of what they were facing, and the only way he could do that, was to tell them everything.

"Mastix was banished...the eve after our Druidic Ceremony," he began, haltingly.

"Ceremony?"

"Yes, Obelix. It is an event in which the apprentice druids cross over to be real, true men of magic. To pass, each must perform a simple spell, without mistake or incident. If he does succeed, the apprentice becomes a full-fledged Druid." Getafix paused at the memory. He recalled the buzz of joy and excitement that had been in the air that day; tinged with just a bit of nerves. All the students had wanted to make it; all of them were anxious to pass...but Mastix most of all. "Everyone had given their presentation, including myself, leaving only Mastix to perform. He...he worked dark, forbidden magic...and, as a result, one of our elder druids was killed."

Obelix and Asterix looked up sharply, eyes wide in shock. They were stunned, though, in all rights, they shouldn't have been. Both Gauls had seen the hatred and malice that had emanated from Mastix; the pure evil intent. Asterix most of all should have realized that the ex-druid was more than capable of murder. He had felt the direct force of Mastix's hate and wrath. Even Obelix, who had only felt the intense fear that Mastix could instill in one's soul, realized that he had known, if only subconsciously, that Mastix could kill. It just wasn't any of the Gauls' first thoughts; they never assumed the worse of people until given reason to. And they had now been given reason to.

But it was still hard for Obelix to grasp. "You mean...killed killed?...Like, killed _dead_?" he inquired, as if maybe, just maybe, there was some other meaning for the word.

Getafix nodded miserably. "The spell Mastix used was the Spell of Extraction, from the Book of Olc; a book of forbidden spells. The elder he killed, Prolix, was a special man. He was a Solas Anam-"

"A solars what?" Obelix interrupted. Of the three men, he was the only one completely captivated by the tale. He had stopped moving through the papers, giving Getafix his full attention. Asterix, on the other hand, was still working along, too pressed for time to stop. But he _was_ listening. Obelix could tell by the way the wings on the blond Gaul's helmet stood straight and erect. It was really quite odd how the little, feathered objects always seemed to convey Asterix's emotions.

Getafix too had continued to work, even while he was talking. He frustratingly closed a book he had just deemed useless and tossed it aside as he continued the story. "A Solas Anam, Obelix. A very rare, gifted person. They have a special power inside them. Prolix was one of these. Mastix knew, and wanted to test the Spell of Extraction on him, while also gaining the respect of his elders...He did not know the spell would kill Prolix, of that we were certain. But, in this case, that did not matter. Mastix was banished that night. He left, but sent terrible spells that destroyed the Carnutes, and, if we had not been so fortunate, might have caused the deaths of many. We were forced to flee; and I came here."

"How long ago was that?" Asterix breathed, having paused in his work. He had picked up on the distressed, almost pained tone in the druid's voice, and was therefore deeply concerned. He had never been aware of just how traumatic a life Getafix had lived before arriving in the village. In fact, Asterix had never really even considered that the druid had _had_ a life anywhere else before then at all. It was a rediculous thing to assume, now that he thought of it. Just because Getafix had lived in the village Asterix's entire life, didn't mean that Getafix had always lived there. He had just never though about it before.

Getafix actually smiled, though it was more bitter than joyous. "Exactly one day before you two were born."

"But this Prolix fellow," Obelix spoke up, "If he had this Solas...Solas...this _power_, why couldn't he just use it to fight against Mastix's spell?"

"From what I understand, it's not a power that can be channeled or used by the one who is gifted with it. It's more that it lives _in_ them, through their personality. More of a gift to those around them, than a gift to themselves. How, I don't know," Getafix admitted. "I did a little research on the matter a few years ago, but after what happened in the Carnutes; well, it just proved to be...too painful a subject." The three men lapsed into silence.

Asterix began to analyze all the information Getafix had just given them on Mastix and started to incorporate it into what he already knew. Mastix was a man who wanted to be known far and wide for his skills and talents. He wanted to be seen as the greatest among his peers, as well as his betters. But in doing his all to be the most, Mastix had only succeeded in becoming the least. It was sad, really. All Mastix had ever wanted was approval. Asterix almost felt bad for him...until he thought of the druid Mastix had killed. Prolix, wasn't it? How tragic. Asterix couldn't even begin to understand how horrible that must have been for the other druids; to see their friend killed. And that poor elder. He had never deserved such a terrible end; nobody did. From what Getafix said, Prolix had been very special, and had obviously been a great friend to their druid. Asterix felt his heart fill with such sorrow and sympathy for these people, he almost couldn't bare it.

"Getafix...I'm...I'm so sorry," was all he could manage.

The druid looked up at the smaller man, taking in his mournful expression. That was the thing about Asterix; not only was he sympathetic, he was empathetic. He didn't just feel Getafix's sorrow; he understood it. And sometimes that was greater than all the powers and magic in the world. Though Asterix never spoke of it, Getafix knew the little Gaul's biggest fear was losing those he cared about. Time and again they had come close, but, as of yet, all the villagers remained healthy and safe; largely because of Asterix. Though the little warrior had never lost anyone, it was his worst, most consistent fear. And often the fear of something, makes it just as real as if it were actually happening.

"Yes, well," Getafix said gently, giving Asterix a kindly smile that he hoped was reassuring. "That was a long time ago. I have made closer friends here among you Gauls than I ever did in the Carnutes. And I don't intend to let Mastix take that away from me."

Asterix's face became strong and determined once more. "Neither shall I."

"Nor I," Obelix added, for good measure.

Getafix nodded. "Good. Now, how in Toutatis' name am I going to do it!" He slammed a musky volume shut with a puff of dust, tossing it into the pile of books they had already searched. His frustration, which had been diverted by the conversation, quickly returned full force. "My records are in such disarray, I doubt I'd be able to find my recipe for boar stew, never mind any of my protection spells from my studies in the Carnutes!"

Obelix licked his lips. Personally, he hoped Getafix _would_ find the recipe for boar stew. It had to be well after noon by now...

"But, Getafix," Asterix ventured carefully, "wouldn't Mastix already be familiar with those spells? He has been banished for so many years, mightn't he have found or created stronger spells that could overpower them?"

Getafix stared at his younger companion for a moment, truly awed by that revelation. Of course! How foolish of him! It only made sense that Mastix would have advanced well beyond anything he had learned in the Carnutes, just as he himself had. But Mastix's natural gift for magic would have given him an advantage. Asterix was right. The protection spells from the Carnutes would more than likely be child's play to Mastix.

"Yes," Getafix mused, "That's quite true. So what we need is something that Mastix is not familiar with."

"Like one of your own creations, perhaps?"

Getafix's eyes widened. Turning to a pile of far more recent parchments he began shuffling through them with renewed vigor. "Asterix, you're a genius! Mastix couldn't possibly be familiar with my magic, not after how much I have progressed since he and I were apprenticed. It won't keep him out forever, but it will certainly give us some time to come up with something more effective!" His expression grew grim as he made another observation. "That would explain why we were unable to defend ourselves against Mastix's spells back all those years ago in Carnutes. Mastix knew all our defenses. It was like trying to guard a city when the enemy knows every weak spot and secret entrance. If only we had known that then...Aha!" The druid lifted a badly wrinkled paper from the stack, holding it up so he could better see it in the light.

Asterix and Obelix quickly moved to Getafix's side. They peered at the parchment, trying to read the blotched and smeared handwriting, but with little luck. The scrawls were written in some language that neither Gaul could read, though they recognized it as one of the common inscriptions that Getafix often used for his notes.

"What is it?" Obelix inquired, craning his neck to better see the object held between the druid's hands.

"It's a spell I worked up a few years ago," Getafix explained. He let his eyes wonder over the notes. "It's a Neutralizing spell."

"Neutralizing?" Asterix had to stand on tip-toe to see; the opposite problem of his much larger friend.

Getafix nodded. He gave the paper a few taps with the back of his hand. "It's in the same category as a protection spell, except instead of deflecting outside magic, like most, it cancels out any magic at all in the area it is cast."

"So, it's like a shield?"

"No, not quite. It won't keep out anything physical. In fact, if he wanted, with this spell active Mastix could walk right into the village without a problem." The druid chuckled at his friends' confused expressions. "But he wouldn't be able to use any magic. His powers would be completely useless."

"Then you could beat him," Obelix finished, believing that was the correct assumption. But Getafix shook his head.

"I said it cancels out _all_ magic in the area, Obelix. That means that, besides the Neutralizing Spell itself, I too would be left powerless under it."

Asterix shook his head nervously. This idea wasn't giving him a very good feeling. "I'm not sure I like that."

Getafix sighed. "Well, at the moment, it is all we have. It will work for a while, though I have no doubt Mastix will figure it out eventually. But it would give us a little more time." He glanced over at the shorter Gaul. "Though I do think we should run it by Vitalstitistix and the others first. There are a few problems with this spell that might be prudent to mention. But we should hurry; the longer we wait, the greater the possibility that Mastix will return before we are sufficiently ready to defend ourselves."

"I'll go get them," Asterix volunteered, already heading for the door. Obelix, like his ever faithful shadow, followed.

"And I'll gather the ingredients we'll need from my storeroom," Getafix muttered. He turned and headed in that direction, disappearing from view before his companions had even disappeared through the door to the outside world of summer sunshine.

* * *

><p>Asterix blinked in the golden light, his eyes stinging slightly as they attempted to adjust to the sun once again. He still had that headache, though it was considerably less painful than it had been before. Getafix's potions were often very effective, but they weren't perfect. Asterix had hoped that the concoction would take away all his aches and pains immediately, but the odds seemed to be against him in that regard. Aside from the faint throbbing in his skull, he was still pretty sore. A few of his muscles felt as though he might have pulled them, but he could handle that. All in all, he had really been quite fortunate, and he knew it. If Mastix's powers hadn't misdirected, or whatever it was that Getafix had said must have happened, he could have been hurt a lot worse. A <em>lot<em> worse.

Obelix waddled beside him. The big Gaul was very relieved to see his friend out and moving again. Nothing in the world had scared him so much as seeing Asterix trapped in that invisible spell. It had been even worse when Asterix had collapsed. When that had happened, for a few, brief moments, Obelix had thought that Mastix had killed the little Gaul. The relief of seeing Asterix still breathing had nearly caused Obelix to pass out himself. It was hard for the well-covered Gaul to accept that there existed in the world, men capable of taking another person's life. Sure, the villagers had faced villains more than capable in the past, but it still left Obelix stunned. He always thought the better of people, until they gave him reason to do otherwise.

"Where's Dogmatix?" Asterix asked quite suddenly. He had all at once become very aware of the pup's absence.

"I left him at your hut when we first went off to find Petunia...er, Mastix." It was confusing knowing that the two where one and the same. The dark druid must have used a spell to disguise himself as a woman, because the man that they had seen in Getafix's hut had looked nothing like Petunia. Except the clothes, and the eyes. Why Mastix had been able to change every aspect of his appearance except his eyes was a mystery. Maybe because the eyes were supposed to be the window to the soul, and Mastix could do nothing to hide his own evil nature. Even Obelix could see now why Dogmatix had been so unlike himself around the strange woman. The pup had somehow sensed it, and Obelix felt absolutely awful that he hadn't. "It turned out to be a good thing," the big Gaul added, "Dogmatix would not have handled what happened very well. Being so small and young." Whether that had anything to do with why he had left his canine companion behind, Obelix didn't know. But it made him feel a little less guilty about it.

Asterix nodded. "You're probably right."

The two friends made their way down the path, finally finding themselves in the village's main center. Unfortunately, it was turning out to be another unpleasantly humid afternoon; exactly what they didn't need. The sun shone down, bathing the Gaulish abode in a smothering heat, much like the day before, only this time Asterix found that he wasn't taking it as well. He was actually beginning to feel a bit sick from the hot atmosphere. But that was probably due to the fact that he wasn't as well as he had been yesterday. More than likely he was still suffering from a slight fever, as well as continuing to be a tad bit dizzy. But Asterix didn't want to alarm his friends anymore than he already had. Things were frightening enough for them as it was, without making it worse.

It wasn't hard to find the other villagers, since they were all gathered in the village center instead of working as Asterix had suggested. Of course, the little warrior hadn't really expected his friends to take that part of his instruction. He knew they wouldn't be able to do anything productive while this dark threat hung over their heads. Especially the men. Even more so the men with wives and children. They would want to protect their families, fueling themselves to come up with a solution as quick as possible that would take care of the problem in one swift act. Unfortunately, often things like this took time. Danger couldn't always be repelled with one deft blow, like they were used to. Asterix knew this, but he also knew that most of the other Gauls didn't. They were going to want to attack, before Mastix struck again. Which, just as Asterix and Obelix joined the throng, happened to be what they were proposing.

Fulliautomatix was currently speaking, pointing a stiff finger toward the gates at arms length. His expression was grim and determined, mirroring the faces of many of the Gauls. "What are we going to do?!" he declared loudly, finishing a long tirade that both Asterix and Obelix had been fortunate enough to miss. "Time is growing short, and this druid fellow could strike again at any moment! Shouldn't we go out there and attack first, before this Mastix has a chance to do even more damage?!"

"I wouldn't recommend it," Asterix commented matter-of-factly. He had expected Fulliautomatix to be among the more aggressive strategists. It was a part of the blacksmith's strong, decisive character. He saw a problem and its possible solution, but not always the means by which to settle it. He wanted a quick fix; something Asterix knew from experience wouldn't be happening any time soon. Brute force didn't always work, and this was a perfect example. "Getafix says Mastix is dangerous. His power is far beyond any of us, even Obelix. Going outside the village would be playing right into his hands. It's what Mastix wants. Then he could use one of us to get the potion." The villagers turned to him in surprise, not having seen him join their midst. Though, how they had missed Obelix was something Asterix would never understand.

Fulliautomatix shifted his finger to point at the shorter Gaul, though his voice lost a good deal of its hostility. The blacksmith couldn't bring himself to truly argue with Asterix; not when the smaller man still looked so pale and shaky on his feet. "But Asterix, we can't just wait around for Mastix to have a go at us," he emphasized obstinately, "We need to attack before he can!"

Several Gauls voiced their agreement. It made perfect sense to them. It had always worked with every other foe they had ever encountered. Of course, they didn't have the Magic Potion at the moment, but that really didn't matter. Fear is a powerful motivator; even more so when it is the fear for the safety of someone you love. The men felt responsible for their wives and children; they _were_ responsible. They would do anything to keep them alive and secure, even if it meant running out into some desperate battle with the powers of a dark, twisted druid.

"We aren't going to wait around," Asterix affirmed, making sure everyone could hear him. "But we're not doing to attack either. We're going to defend ourselves rather than fight a battle where we don't stand a chance."

Unhygenix muscled his way through to the front of the gathering. "How?"

"Getafix says he has a special spell that should protect the village," Obelix beamed, proud of himself for actually understanding some of what their druid had told them. "It will stop Mastix's magic from reaching any of us."

"That's why I came to get you," Asterix concluded hurriedly. His mind was urging him to pick up the pace. It was as if every second were counting dangerously, tipping the scale out of their favor. They were wasting time.

Vitalstitistix nodded approvingly from the top of his shield. He was relieved by Asterix's words, having not supported the idea of going out to meet Mastix in battle in the first place. But, unfortunately, even as Chief of the village, his word was not always the final say. Many of the men, most of all Fulliautomatix, often questioned or challenged his rules or commands. Not out of disrespect, like such behavior might be seen in other cultures, but rather as a sign of their friendship. Even though Vitalstitistix had the title of leader, the Gauls often saw each other as equals, no matter the occupation. They had grown up together; knew each others' strengths and weaknesses; hopes and fears. It may have made them a little less orderly, but it also made the villagers a little bit closer. Their village was a place were a simple blacksmith, or fishmonger, or anyone could openly disagree with their Chief without fear of being punished. Though, it did make Vitalstitistix's job a little bit harder.

The other Gauls visibly relaxed. If Getafix had such a spell as one that could keep out any more attacks, their problems were over. Mastix would have no advantage over them; they were safe. The worst was behind them.

Fulliautomatix gave a relieved laugh, somewhere between chuckle and a sigh. The tenseness in the blacksmith's posture melted at once, producing a joking smile on the man's face. The danger had passed, they could all return to normal. "That's a relief; Unhygenix was thinking about trying to bargain for our safety with his supplies of fish from Lutetia," he smirked. "That would have probably enraged the old druid so much he'd have called the sky down on our heads!"

There was a moment's pause as the words sank into the humid air, before Unhygenix seemed to register the meaning of the comment. He spun around indignantly, jabbing a finger into the blacksmith's chest. "You got something against my fish, Fulliautomatix?! They are of the best quality and perfectly fresh!"

"Fresh! Ha! They're staler than last century's bread!"

The fishmonger pulled back a fist, being caught without a fish to slap the smug grin from his companion's face. The rest of the Gauls stepped back, not necessarily wanting to get involved, though it was inevitable. Fights like these always escalated quickly, and regardless of the rhyme or reason, the entire village would soon be participating in an all out brawl. It never failed. No matter the situation or time of day; anytime was a perfectly good time for a bout of harmless pummeling.

Anytime but now.

Asterix knew they didn't have time for any of this. A feeling was growing within him; that dread that had filled him so many times before. Something was going to happen; something bad. Whether he could figure out what that something was in time, Asterix didn't know. All he knew was they needed to get that Neutralizing spell up as soon as possible. He ran forward, firmly placing himself between the two men with an arm outstretched to both. The movement surprised the blacksmith and fishmonger, halting their argument at once. "Stop!" Asterix scolded angrily, "We've got to go talk with Getafix. Time is running out. If we don't hurry Mastix could come back before we're ready to defend against him. Now we need t-Ah!" Everyone present jumped at the little Gaul's sharp cry of pain. Asterix flinched in on himself, hands clutching to his chest as a sensation like lightening bloomed there. His knees gave out on him, forcing Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix to catch him before he could hit the ground. For the second time that day, he felt robbed of his breath, gasping as wave after wave of pain shot through him.

"Asterix! What's wrong?!"

The little warrior couldn't even seem to answer the blacksmith; his only response being another strangled cry as a second jolt of agony spider webbed through his upper body. Obelix pushed through the bystanders, frantically making his way to his friend's side. He took over supporting the shorter Gaul, trying to figure out what was happening.

Asterix had been fine. Getafix had given him that potion for his sores and bruises, as well as his headache. There should be nothing wrong! But here Asterix was, writhing in obvious torment, gasping for breath and clutching his chest so tightly his hands had gone white. In fact, Asterix looked deathly pale. Even paler than before when he had been trapped in the paralyzing spell. Only this was almost worse. Asterix _could_ move; kicking and squirming as if something were being slowly and painfully driven into him. Obelix couldn't understand what was happening; none of the Gauls could. The relief they had felt only moments before left them; deflating from their spirits as they became filled with panic and shock.

Their village warrior's body wasn't up to any more suffering. Between his assault earlier and his restless night's sleep the night before, it was obvious that Asterix was nearing the end of what he could handle. All at once, the little Gaul managed to move one of his hands away from its grip, grabbing Obelix's arm shakily. His eyes were full of pain, but even more; fear. Obelix saw that unmistakable expression of terror and knew instantly what was wrong, even before Asterix struggled the explanation out himself.

"M-Mast-tix!"

**...**

**I feel absolutely terrible about putting Asterix through more agony, especially after he's just barely recovered from the last attack. But, that's just how his life is going to be for a while...**


	13. Neutralized

Obelix gave a sudden gasp, involuntarily wrenching his arm away from Asterix's weak, shaking grip. His withdrawal caused Asterix to fall to his knees, but, at the moment, that couldn't be helped. Pain had all at once erupted in the big Gaul's limb under his friend's touch; a stinging, burning sensation. Obelix looked at his arm in consternation, taking in the odd, blistering mark Asterix had left on his skin. It was a perfect imprint of a hand, the palm and each individual finger clearly distinguishable. The burn had turned the flesh a bright, irritated shade of pink, looking even more vibrant as it contrasted with the pale white of his unaffected skin. It still stung; a numbing, crawling tingle that made it both tickle and hurt. It was as if Obelix had accidentally brushed up against the heat of a dancing flame.

"Don't touch him!" Obelix exclaimed as several Gauls moved to assist Asterix, who was practically convulsing on the ground at their feet. He felt awful, giving an order like that; to leave his best friend kneeling in pain, but he had no choice. He didn't want anyone else to be burned. "There's something wrong! If you touch him, you'll get hurt!" The other Gauls shrank back, eyes wide and mouths shut tight. "Someone go get Getafix!"

After glancing about to see if anyone else was going to volunteer, Cacofonix took off like a frightened fawn, running for their druid as fast as his legs could carry him. He was the most logical candidate, being perhaps the fastest villager besides Obelix when not under the influence of the Magic Potion. His long, thin legs and years of learning to outrun enraged critics of his musical talents paid off as he disappeared from view in a matter of seconds.

"Oh my!"

Obelix turned at Impedimenta's exclamation. The Chief's wife, along with a number of the other woman, were fussing over Fulliatomatix and Unhygenix, who were holding their hands painfully in front of them; palms up. They were burned and blistered like Obelix's arm, looking quite nasty and irritated in the heated sunshine. The big Gaul realized that when the two men had caught Asterix, when he had collapsed, they too must have been scorched. How that was possible was beyond Obelix's understanding. As far as he knew, people weren't capable of burning people by simply touching them. This wasn't natural; and if it wasn't natural, it had to be magic. And if it was magic, it _had_ to be Mastix. Again, the largest Gaul felt himself feeling a very strong dislike of the dark druid. He wished the fellow was within his reach; he'd soon make the man leave his friends alone. At least, that's what he wanted to think he would do. But, deep down, Obelix knew that not even he, with all his strength and size, could truly stand against something so powerful as true, evil magic.

Obelix looked back to his friend kneeling by his feet, quivering in agony. It was almost more than the big-hearted Gaul could bare. Getting down to his own knees, which wasn't exactly easy for a man of his girth, Obelix hovered his hands over Asterix, wishing with all his might to touch his friend to reassure the little Gaul that things were going to be alright. Asterix's skin had left painful marks on his arm and the other two mens' hands; Obelix couldn't hold Asterix without being hurt again himself. He couldn't carry him to Getafix; he couldn't do anything. But the little warrior looked so pained and frightened, Obelix was seriously considering reaching out and picking Asterix up despite it. But then, at a sudden idea, Obelix realized that, perhaps, Asterix's skin was the only thing that would burn him. Maybe his clothing would protect the larger Gaul against his friend's fiery touch. Without a second thought, Obelix tentatively reached out one of his huge, stone-hardened hands and lay it gently against Asterix's shivering back, where his black tunic covered him fully. Feeling no pain from the action, Obelix added a little more pressure in a comforting fashion. He was both relieved and worried when Asterix leaned into it, as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded against the pain. To Obelix it didn't feel like enough, but it was all he could do.

Vitalstitistix stood directly behind the largest Gaul, wringing his hands in agitation. A part of him couldn't believe this was happening. Things had been moving so fast since that morning, and now Asterix had been attacked _twice_. Vitalstitistix might not be the village warrior, but he _was_ the village leader. He was in charge of the others. Like his father before him, Vitalstitistix was supposed to lead them; help them; direct them. In all honesty, his goal was never far off from that of Asterix. They both worked to keep the others safe and happy. The Chief made the decissions, so that others could perform them for the benefit of the village. It was the highest position in Gaulish culture; the most coveted and envied. It was supposed to be a sign of strength and bravery...but right now, looking down on his friend's suffering, all Vitalstitistix felt was weak and helpless. He should have known Petunia was a danger. Should have known nothing good ever came of mysterious strangers who came wandering into the village by the dark of night. He should have known.

Impedimenta stood beside her husband, a hand clutching his tightly as they watched in horror the events happening around them. Impedimenta's eyes had widened at the frighteningly dreadful burns on the blacksmith and fishmonger's hands, as well as Obelix's arm; worried about what such power was doing to Asterix himself. The little warrior was gasping for air, allowing Obelix to support his back, though he twitched and shook with each hitching breath. The Chief's wife had been startled when the menhir deliveryman had leaned forward to touch Asterix once more, after already having been burned once. But Impedimenta sighed in relief when the big Gaul received no pain from the action, as long as his contact stayed within the area of Asterix's clothes. Her eyes were full of sadness and fear as she took in the shorter Gaul's haggard appearance. Asterix was struggling to hang on; Impedimenta could tell. It really amazed her sometimes; the amount the small man could take. Asterix was only a few inches taller than her, and yet, as far as his bravery was concerned, he overshadowed them all. He was unique, courageous, and had a heart of gold. It made watching him suffer all the more excruciating.

Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix shared nervous glances. The pulsating pain in their hands had diminished to a dull sting; though neither man felt they could inspect them at the moment. Their stomachs had turned at the unexpected smell of burnt flesh, as well as the blisters that now covered their palms and fingers. They didn't think they would be able to handle another glance until their guts calmed themselves a little. Bacteria and Mrs. Fulliautomatix fussed over their husbands' charred injuries, trying to do their best not to faint at the sight, while attempting to comfort the men just by being beside them. The burns had been a shock. After all, when you touch someone, you don't tend to expect to feel as though you had grabbed a cauldron of scalding water. It had hurt, and the funny thing was that it hadn't hurt right away. For both Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix, neither man had truly felt the pain until after they had handed Asterix over to Obelix. _Then_ they had felt it; and it wasn't an experience they wanted to undergo ever again.

The villagers all remained perfectly still, watching in agonized silence as the attack on Asterix continued. They fervently wished they could take the small warrior into one of the huts; any of the huts. Out here, in the open, they felt as if nothing was sheltering the smaller Gaul from Mastix's spell. Of course, they all knew that wouldn't make any difference. The attack would be just as strong and dangerous inside as it was outside. But it was as if the very air; the sunshine and bright, clear, blue sky were poison. Any one of them would have traded the beautiful day for a dark, humid cottage in a flash if it would have done any good. They felt frightened and helpless. There was nothing they could do; not until Cacofonix returned with Getafix. They prayed that their druid would be able to do something to help.

Obelix didn't move his gaze from Asterix. The big Gaul's stance was stiff and determined, as though he were preparing to stand against a hurricane. He didn't shift the pressure of his hand from Asterix's back, hoping that his friend would somehow feel comforted by it. There was no way in all of Gaul that Obelix was going to let go. The blond-haired warrior was shaking so violently it was a wonder he hadn't scooted along the sands. The grip he had on his own chest hadn't lessened any. In fact, as the seconds passed, he clutched tighter. With horror, Obelix realized his friend's attack was getting worse the more Asterix weakened.

To everyone's relief, a moment later, Cacofonix came speeding back, practically dragging Getafix by the sleeve of his white robe. It wasn't that the druid was reluctant to come, he just simply couldn't keep up with the village bard as he dashed madly along the paths. Coming to a halt so abruptly that they slid, Cacofonix pointed to Asterix with a nervous, shaking finger. Dumping an armful of herbs he had carried with him from his cottage, Getafix crouched down beside the two Gauls kneeling in the dust, his face panicked and not the least bit controlled. He reacted much the same as the others had to Asterix's condition, though he knew better than to touch his friend.

"It's Mastix!" Obelix burst out, stating the obvious in his intense fear. "He's attacking Asterix again!" The villagers flinched at the emotional pain the deep voice carried. Obelix and Asterix were inseparable. The two went everywhere together; did everything together. They were as different as night and day, but just as dependent on each other. Since birth they had been by one another's side, and now the sound in Obelix's voice spoke of a terrible fear that Asterix might be about to break that bond, if they couldn't do something at once to save him.

Getafix tried to keep his thoughts in order, though it was hard. His emotions were going wild, scattering his focus, threatening to throw him into utter panic. He stared at Asterix, taking in the symptoms he could visually see at a glance. Asterix's pale face, gasping breath, and desperate hold on his chest testified to the immense pain the little Gaul was enduring. The druid saw the twitching and shivering; having to fight down another surge of frantic energy when he noticed the faint, sinister glow shining from beneath Asterix's quivering hands. There was no doubt this was Mastix's doing. Getafix cursed his past fellow student under his breath as he began digging through the supplies he had brought from his hut. He couldn't understand why Mastix would target Asterix again, and so soon. They had no Magic Potion; could Mastix still be trying to force him to brew some by torturing his friend? The thought not only filled the druid with horror, but with rage. Obelix watched the druid's shaking hands as Getafix dug through the various herbs, selecting certain ones while discarding others.

"Please, Getafix! Put up the Neutralizing Spell! Please!"

As dense as Obelix could be sometimes, he often surprised his fellow Gauls whenever he was truly thinking clearly. While that rarely happened, when it did it came to him with a jolt and a kick; like a bolt of subconscious understanding that made him think of things or do things he wouldn't normally do. Now was one of those rare times. The obvious danger Asterix was in cleared his mind, causing him to remember what Getafix had said only a short time ago. A Neutralizing Spell would release Asterix; Obelix knew it would. Getafix had said it would leave Mastix powerless and, at the moment, that was exactly what needed to be done. Whether it was long term or no, this had to stop. Now!

Getafix looked up into the larger Gaul's eyes, seeing a panic that the druid knew was mirrored in his own expression. In all truthfulness, he had been planning to do just what Obelix was now asking. But he hesitated. He wasn't as convinced that the Neutralizing Spell would be such a good idea, as he had been before. The more he thought back, the more reluctant he was to try it. That spell hadn't exactly been one of his greatest triumphs. On the contrary, he might even count it among his worst failures. The experiment had been both disappointing and exhausting; something that would certainly be a disadvantage to them right now. It was too risky; too slim a chance...But then Getafix returned his sad gaze to Asterix. He couldn't let his friend continue to suffer. Not when there was something he could do to help. The druid made his decision then and there. The spell _would_ work. He'd _make_ it work.

Grabbing the last few ingredients from the colorful pile of supplies, Getafix placed the various herbs and roots into a small mortar he had had the discretion to bring. Taking the wooden pestle in hand, the druid ground the plants into a fine, grayish-brown powder that smelled oddly of dirt and coal. He did it far more quickly than he normally would; spilling a bit here and there over the brim, though not enough to cause a problem. Keeping an ever watchful eye on Asterix, Getafix carefully poured the dust-like substance into the palm of his hand. He shifted his eyes down to the powder, as if considering some last, unpleasant option; then he stood with the villagers still gathered all around. With a dramatic phrase in some unintelligible tongue that was forgotten the moment it was heard, the druid tossed the powder into the air with a jolt of his aging hand.

The particles didn't flutter to the ground like the Gauls had expected it to; instead being caught up into the air, as though a strong breeze had taken hold of it. Only there was no breeze. The atmosphere was completely calm. They watched the powder drift far above their heads in curiosity, surprised by the fact that the spell had been so subtle.

"Close your eyes!"

Getafix's shout came just in time, warning the villagers and startling them to action just seconds before the bright, silent explosion of iridescent light. Even through their lids and shielded faces, they saw the flash, causing colorful patterns to dance within their tightly shut eyes. When the explosion had passed, and they had all returned their gaze to the sky, they saw no difference. No odd coloration; no shimmering visible field. In fact, everything appeared disappointingly normal and very non-spell-like. As if nothing magical or out-of-the-ordinary had taken place at all.

Vitalstitistix blinked with confusion up at the clear blue sky. "Did...did it work?"

"Oh, it's working," Getafix replied in a strained voice. He was slightly paler than he had been a moment before, and was a little out of breath, but in all other regards, he seemed perfectly fine.

"Getafix!"

All eyes turned to Obelix. The large Gaul was now cradling Asterix, relieved that the burning sensation had left his friend's skin. Asterix was limp, but conscious; thoroughly exhausted from the harrowing experience. His hands still lay on his chest, even though the pain was undoubtedly gone. The light pressure helped to ease the dull ache that remained, as well as the memory of it. It was like that slight soreness one gets after the cramp in their leg has finally gone away; a kind of twinge that reminds one that they should be grateful the pain has passed. The small warrior was shivering, but it wasn't the body-wracking jolts from before. These were the leftover tremors of the little Gaul's shock and fear. Obelix looked down on him in great anguish, wishing there was more that he could do.

Getafix hurried forward, kneeling beside the two and reaching out a hand to check Asterix over. The druid would have liked to have lain Asterix on the ground, where he could better see him, but it was more than obvious that Obelix would be extremely reluctant to do so. Despite how gently he was holding his friend, the biggest Gaul's grip was firm; determined to keep all danger and pain away. Asterix was safe. If Mastix wanted to hurt the warrior again, he'd have Obelix to deal with first. The druid leaned forward, trying to read Asterix's expression, wondering just how aware the little Gaul was. After such an ordeal, he would have expected Asterix to be unconscious; though Getafix was extremely glad that he was not.

"Asterix? Can you hear me?"

The exhausted face registered his voice, and the little Gaul turned his head to look at him, releasing a tight, shuddering sigh. "...Th-that...h-hurt..."

Both the druid and the villager's eyes filled with pity at that soft, whispered statement. It had most assuredly been a lot worse than simply a 'hurt'. The way Asterix had been gasping and cringing; writhing about, it had been closer to 'agonizing' or 'torturous'. But, of course, Asterix would never admit to that. He wouldn't want to scare them any more than he already had. That was just how Asterix was; even now, he was thinking of them more than thinking of himself. How their friend could manage to do so in his present state was a mystery, and tugged at their hearts uncomfortably. Mostly because they knew, should they ever be in such a situation; ever be in that much pain, they'd probably never be able to do so themselves.

"Yes, Asterix...I know," Getafix soothed gently, trying not to sound as worried as he really was. "But now you're safe. I put up the Neutralizing Spell. Mastix won't be able to reach you again for some time...And by then we'll have a plan." He really would have liked to have been able to promise them all that Mastix would never harm any of them again. But Getafix knew his spell wouldn't last. Mastix would figure it out eventually. And then, what would they do? And why did Mastix keep targeting Asterix? They'd discuss that shortly, but right now they needed to get Asterix back inside.

Asterix seemed distressed by the news. "B-but...Getafix...you...you s-said that...the Neutral...lizing Spell...had something wrong...with it..."

"Don't speak," the druid said quickly, not only because now wasn't the time to discuss those few problems with his magic that he had mentioned earlier, but because he wasn't sure how badly Asterix had been hurt. "Let me get a better look at you before you start back to being a hero again." He received a weak smile from the little warrior, but Getafix found he had to try hard to return it.

The druid looked up at Obelix, taking in the Gaul's concerned, upset expression. "Do you think you can carry him back to my hut?" It was a silly , misleading question really. Everyone knew that Obelix was far more than physically capable of carrying anyone anywhere. Getafix's real question was more of a inquiry to the large Gaul's emotional state. Could Obelix _mentally _handle carrying his weak and injured best friend to the druid's hut? That was the real question. But Getafix needn't have worried. At the moment, Obelix's fear and anger were feeding him, and the full shock of the morning's events had not hit him quite yet. The large Gaul's emotional strength was empowering him, and he felt as though he'd be both willing and able to carry Asterix to the world's end if need be.

Standing carefully with Asterix held carefully in his large, powerful arms, Obelix turned and headed back toward the druid's hut; where Asterix had lain hurt only that morning. It wasn't fair that the little Gaul had been hit twice in one day. It wasn't fair that the moment he had finally recovered enough to stand on his own two feet, Mastix had struck him back down without a second thought. It wasn't fair. It was as simple as that. Obelix wished fervently that this would be the last misfortune to distress his friend; to distress any of them...but, somehow, he had the feeling this was just the beginning.

* * *

><p>Mastix cursed loudly, glaring in the direction of the village with an expression of extreme hatred. In his mind's eye he could just imagine those insignificant villagers gathering around that pathetic, little, blond Gaul. He could practically feel their relief and hope, as his spell had been abruptly blocked. He had expected Getafix to try something; it was the old fool's way. But Mastix was unfamiliar with this particular spell. Otherwise he would not have been hindered by it in the slightest. This spell practically glowed with Getafix's magic style; every druid had one. Like every house has its own scent, or every culture has its own costums; every druid had their own, recognizable magic. Getafix's had always been exceptionally bright and cheery, much to Mastix's disgust. The spell that had broken his must have been something Getafix had concocted himself.<p>

But Mastix was angry about something else as well. Even if Getafix had not interfered, Masrix knew he would not have accomplished his own spell. While he was certain his magic had caused the little Gaul a considerable amount of pain and agony, Asterix had been too far away. Too far away to truly reach the way he needed to. It was a short range spell; calling for the victim to be only as far from the caster as six yards, and even that was stretching it. Mastix had tried it anyway, more out of curiosity than anything else; as a test. But now, his fears had been confirmed. In order to attain his goal, he would need to be very close to Asterix. Very close. And that wasn't going to be easy, especially now. If only he had known of what the little Gaul was before, then he wouldn't have wasted his time in the village searching for that Magic Potion. He would have struck then and there, and nothing would have been able to stop him.

Mastix grumbled heatedly.

Now things would be harder; his goal would be more of a challenge to obtain. But Mastix was certain he could break Getafix's spell eventually; it was only a matter of time, and Mastix had plenty of that. He would just have to keep pressing; crushing against it. Getafix had never been as strong as him; and Mastix was sure he could win. Then he would have a power that no one could equal. He would be able to exact revenge on the fools in Carnutes; on the Venerable Druid. On Getafix, and all those little villagers; every man, woman, and child of them. It didn't matter that the Gauls had never even heard of him before that day. They were friends of his enemy; and that was enough. He'd make them all see who was the greatest. He'd make them all pay, whether they deserved it or not. They would all suffer.

It was just a matter of time.

**...**

**This chapters a little short, but I don't want to move too quickly through my story. Plus, college has been really keeping me busy, as it's supposed to I guess. Boy, am I tired though. But, I will not forsake Asterix and his friends, nor my readers! So, onward! Onward, I say!**

**Yeah, as you can see...I'm tired... :)**


	14. Inevitability

Asterix sat for the second time that day on the side of the cot in Getafix's hut. The darker lighting of the cottage, as well as the slightly musty smell of the bed's sheets, were beginning to become quite familiar to the little Gaul. Outside the sun was just starting to set in the west, filling the sky with a brilliant orange and pink hue. The day had gone by so fast; though not fast enough in Asterix's opinion. In fact, he would have been happy just skipping that day altogether. It had been full of worry, fear, embarrassment, and a good deal of pain, and not only for him. The others had been very upset; fussing over him, just like his mother would have, had she been there. They were worried about him, that Asterix understood; but all he really wanted was to let the day's events rest in the past. He had never liked being the center of attention, and now was no different. He felt ashamed that not only hadn't he been able to protect the village against Mastix's power, but he hadn't even been able to protect himself. That feeling of weakness; of helplessness, was one he found left a terrible fear within him. It was his job to protect the others, but Mastix seemed to have his powers fixed on _him_. As long as that was the case; as long as Mastix had the power to reach down and hurt him, Mastix had the power to manipulate the others. They couldn't stand seeing him suffer any more than he would be able to tolerate Mastix torturing one of them. Asterix was frightened of how far that could go. What would Mastix do to convince Getafix to give him the Magic Potion? The little Gaul didn't care about his safety so much, but what about the others? The men, women, and children? If something happened to him, who would keep Mastix from hurting them as well?

Of course, Getafix's spell was doing a fine job at the moment of keeping the dark druid's power away. The moment the Neutralizing Spell had been initiated, Asterix had felt that terrible pain leave his chest; like a chain being broken between him and Mastix. It had been such a relief; like a breath of fresh air after an eternity of drowning. But, though he was instantly released, it took Asterix a good hour and a half to truly feel himself again. Obelix had carried him to Getafix's hut, with Asterix far too weak to protest. He had been once again lain on the old sheets of the cot, and carefully examined by Getafix, under the concerned and ever-watching eyes of the other villagers. It had made Asterix very uncomfortable, but there had been nothing he could do about it. He could barely move, his muscles strained from his lack of sleep and the two brutal attacks he had received. Luckily, Getafix knew enough about Asterix's character to know he didn't like appearing helpless or weak in front of the others; especially in front of the _whole_ _village_. The druid had told them to go about their business; to go get themselves fed and take care of their children. Soon, only seven Gauls remained in the hut: Asterix, Getafix, Obelix, Unhygenix, Fulliautomatix, Vitalstitistix, and Impedimenta.

Getafix would have asked the others to leave as well, had the circumstances been different, so Asterix could rest. But that would not be happening at the moment. The druid found himself with three more patients, all suffering from rather frightful burns. Of the trio, Obelix's wound was the least severe. Having only been lightly touched by Asterix's hand, he was left with what Getafix called a 'first degree burn', while Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix suffered 'second degree burns'. Fortunately, long ago, druids had concocted a healing rub for such an injury, of which Getafix was well accustomed to using. Working around a boiling cauldron making potions had its hazards, burns of all degrees being one of the more common. It would heal the skin quite speedily; within a night and a day, with proper treatment. It was the application that was the difficult part. Rubbing a lotion onto red, exposed flesh was hardly an easy task; especially when many of the main ingredients of the concoction were of a rather more acidic nature. Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix in particular had to grit their teeth to keep themselves from crying out as the rub was applied.

Asterix felt terribly guilty. He hadn't remembered how his touch had scorched his friends, and when they had told him, Asterix had been both frightened and shocked. He was horrified to know that he had inflicted such painful injuries on the other three Gauls; apologizing profusely despite their claims that he hadn't been able to control it, and that it wasn't his fault. But it _was_ his fault, by Toutatis! They were _his_ hands! If Mastix could use his own body against his closest friends, what else would the dark druid be able to do? These thoughts tumbled around and around in the little Gaul's mind, only succeeding in causing his anxiety to grow, as well as his exhaustion. He sat on the edge of the cot, watching guiltily as Getafix continued ministering to his injured friends.

Impedimenta sat on a chair close to Asterix's left. She was very concerned about all that had happened. She was worried for them all; terrified at the prospect of going up against such a cruel and powerful enemy. She was worried about Obelix, Fulliautomatix, Unhygenix, and their dreadful burns. But, at the moment, she was most concerned about Asterix. Seeing him in such agony earlier had filled her with more fear and distress, that even now that he was sitting there, calm and quiet on the bedside, she could think of nothing else but the pain he had endured only a short while before. He looked so small and pale; almost sick. It was obvious that he needed sleep, but Getafix insisted they needed to try and get something of nutritional value into him first. That task had been left for Impedimenta, and it was far easier said than done. While Getafix had managed to get the warrior to drink a minimal amount of water, she found it nearly impossible to get him to eat anything. She didn't push him at first; that is, until she found out the short, little fellow hadn't eaten a thing all that day. She had cooked up a light, boar broth and now sat in the chair, gripping the warm bowl in her hands; determined to get it into him by force if necessary. If there was anything Impedimenta had ever learned from her mother, it was that, when someone was ailing, there was no better cure than rest, warmth, and a good meal; the last being one of which Asterix was lacking at the moment.

But Asterix remained focused on Getafix and his patients, his eyes seemingly staring right through them in an exhaustion induced, trance-like state; looking very much in need of rest. Impedimenta sighed, looking up at her husband who stood beside her, watching the little warrior with unconcealed concern.

The Chief returned his wife's sad, wordless expression, before changing his own to a look of determination. "Here, Impedimenta; let me try."

Taking the warm, wooden bowl from her small, chubby hands, Vitalstitistix carefully made his way around the chair. He sat himself down on the bed, beside Asterix, feeling slightly embarrassed by the great, creaking groan the cot gave in protest to his considerable bulk. The extra weight bowed the bed, causing the considerably less bulky Gaul to nearly fall against him. Asterix blinked rapidly, coming out of his deep, dark, troubling thoughts. He turned to Vitalstitistix, surprised to see the Chief in such close proximity to him. It wasn't that Asterix didn't like Vitalstitistix; not at all! It was just that, out of all the Gauls, Vitalstitistix was a little less...intimate. Maybe it was just part of being a leader; a figurehead; someone everyone was supposed to look up to. A leader had to be strong; giving direction and commands rather than the more delicate actions, such as giving encouragement or comfort. But seeing Asterix like he was now, motivated Vitalstitistix to step out of his area of expertise. Taking hold of the smaller Gaul's wrist, the Chieftain pressed the bowl of boar broth into Asterix's hand.

"Eat," he said firmly, though his eyes showed it was more of a plea than a command. He didn't have the heart to force Asterix to eat; even to insist seemed too harsh an action after all the little Gaul had been through. But Vitalstitistix knew Asterix, better than most would expect him to. Despite being a good six years older than Asterix, the Chief had grown up with the smaller man; they had been friends first, before fate cast them into their different roles in the village's society. They had drifted apart somewhat, over time; Vitalstitistix becoming the overseer, and Asterix a workman. It was something the Chief had been intending to mend for quite some time now. But Asterix was hard to get close to, as far as friendships went. He got along with everyone alright, as well as cared a great deal for all the villagers; as did the villagers for him. But Asterix tended to keep himself slightly separate from the others. No, that wasn't the word; he tended to keep himself separate emotionally. He kept his opinions to himself, unless he thought it was vital to the village's safety, and rarely confided in anyone; the only exceptions being Obelix and Getafix. To the others, Asterix was sometimes a bit of a mystery. One could never be sure of what he was truly thinking or feeling, mostly because the little Gaul would keep it all locked up inside him. Like he was now.

Asterix lowered his eyes to the steaming bowl of brown broth. "...I'm not really all that hungry, Chief..."

Vitalstitistix continued to press it into the other's hand. "You need to get something into you. If you don't, you won't get any better. You've got to keep up your strength." He paused, watching as Asterix hesitated. As an afterthought he added, "If you're not well, who will help us defend against Mastix?" It was rather a low blow, he knew; but Asterix needed to gain his footing again. If playing on his fear was the only way to get him to eat, Vitalstitistix would use it; even if it made him feel more than a little regretful.

Asterix looked back to the Chief sharply. He didn't look mad; the small warrior looked frightened. After a moment, he nodded, shakily taking the bowl from Vitalstitistix's grasp. The Chieftain got up from the bed, allowing Impedimenta to take his place. The short woman settled herself beside the short Gaul, in case Asterix needed any help. The small man's hands were shaking badly, making it difficult to spoon the broth into his mouth without spilling it back into the bowl. But he was persistent; determined to complete the task himself. Even so, Impedimenta stayed close should he need her.

Getafix continued wrapping clean linen around Obelix's arm. Glancing once more over the same treatment he had given both Unhygenix and Fulliautomatix, he saw with relief that the two Gauls' faces looked far less pained than before. The burns would heal quickly; most likely gone in two day's time. An easy fix, though the druid had no doubt that it was quite sore at the moment. He had taken great care to clean and dress the wounds, all the while softly lecturing his patients on their destructive error.

"And that's why you must never touch someone under a magic spell," he concluded. "The current of energy between them and the caster is very powerful. You're all lucky to have walked away with nothing but burns. I've seen much worse."

The three patients didn't want to know what the worst case scenario might be; still fighting to keep their nausea to a minimum, especially Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix. They couldn't imagine anything more terrible than having their skin sizzled like a boar roasting over a fire. It had hurt; it _still_ hurt. But they also know that, if it had been that painful for them, it had been a hundred times worse for Asterix.

"That should do the trick," Getafix announced with satisfaction as he finished his task with a final wrap and a tuck. "That herbal rub will mend those burns very soon, but I want you three to be careful not to get the wounds dirty. An infection would be far more difficult to tend to. So keep away from anything especially filthy." He looked to Unhygenix hesitantly. "I suggest you let Bacteria handle the fish for the next several days."

The fishmonger looked as if he were about to protest, but then shut his mouth; to tired to argue at the moment.

"Go home and get some rest," the druid instructed. "I'm sure your wives are worried about you."

Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix gave a slight nod, getting up and thanking Getafix for helping them. After making sure there was nothing more they could do, the two men left for their families. Obelix remained; sitting on a stool much to small for him by the fireplace. He was holding his injured arm, fiddling with the tightly wrapped cloth that covered it.

"If it's alright, Getafix," he asked softly, "I'd like to stay here with Asterix."

The druid nodded with a gentle smile. "I expected nothing less." Turning his attention to the other side of the room, Getafix's heart was warmed by the sight of the Chieftain and his wife carefully tending to Asterix. It was something he hadn't expected, but was truly grateful for. Asterix needed all the support they could give him. Though Mastix's most recent attack hadn't left any physical injuries, like the one prior, it had left the little warrior weak and drained; something that could be equally dangerous under certain circumstances. They needed to get Asterix back to full strength, if not for their sake, for his. Getafix knew his friend was blaming himself for all that had happened; Asterix always did. It seemed to be his way of coping; a very unhealthy way, Getafix observed with a shake of his head. The druid went to stand next to the bed, watching with satisfaction as Asterix managed to finish as much of the broth as he could; leaving just a few spoonfuls in the wooden bottom.

Asterix hadn't realized just how hungry he had been. Anxiety had dulled his appetite for the past twenty-four hours, and now it had been reawakened with a vengeance. The broth was mild and soothing, warming him from the inside out as it slid down his throat and into his empty stomach. It calmed his nerves, and, after a moment or two, the shivers that had been plaguing him for the past hour and a half slowly subsided. A little bit of color returned to his face, though he was still far paler than any of the others liked. Having had all the broth he could handle, Asterix handed the nearly empty bowl back to Impedimenta, who took it with a relieved smile.

Obelix eased himself up off his stool and came over to his friend's side. "Are you feeling better, Asterix?" It was actually the same question Getafix had been about to ask, but the druid didn't mind. Somehow it sounded less intimidating coming from Obelix, which was for the best. Asterix would be more willing to be truthful about his condition with his closest friend than he would be with Getafix.

"Tired," Asterix confessed. There was no use hiding it. He knew the others could read it in his face and body language; he was exhausted. His eyes refused to stay open for much longer, and the little Gaul realized that this was one battle he was going to lose. He wasn't invincible; he needed all the things any other person needed. Sleep being the most pressing issue at the moment. He never slept well when stressed. When a problem ate away at him, he just couldn't fall to sleep. Not until his body simply shut down from the lack of rest, like he knew it was about to. But he actually felt like he could sleep, which was strange. He had more important things to think about and do; normally he wouldn't even consider taking a rest. But, oddly enough, his body had other plans.

"Then I suggest you lay down," the druid informed. Getafix motioned for the other Gauls to shift out of the way, then, carefully, he helped Asterix beneath the sheets. Once the little Gaul was settled, the druid lay a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "If you need anything, just let me know." Asterix's eyes were nearly shut, but he gave a slow, almost unnoticeable nod. He was sound asleep before Getafix even turned to face the others.

Impedimenta gazed at the motionless figure wrapped beneath the folds of the blankets. "That certainly came over him awful quick," she noted with a tone of alarm. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be just fine," the druid assured her, "I just slipped him a little sleeping potion to help him rest."

The Chief's wife looked dumbfounded. "How did you do that?"

"I put a few drops in your broth."

"My broth!" She looked a little indignant at the idea, but her expression softened again as her gaze refocused on Asterix. He looked much more relaxed; less tense. Impedimenta decided that she didn't mind Getafix messing with her cooking, as long as it helped the short warrior to recover.

"And you're sure it will help him?" Obelix asked carefully, "Not hurt him?"

Getafix knew enough than to take the question personally. Obelix was scared, as they all were, and fear made you doubt a lot of things. The big Gaul's faith in magic had dwindled in the last several hours; seeing it bring nothing but pain and suffering to his best friend. Mastix's abuse of power was shameful, as well as frightening. Obelix had never seen magic used in a negative way before. Getafix's powders, spells, and potions had always been light, friendly, and helpful; not dark, sinister, and harmful like Mastix's. It was really rather a shock. Until that day, Obelix had always just assumed that all magic was right and good. But today had proved that to be nothing but the beliefs of an ignorant man. Mastix was cruel and evil, as was the power he wielded. The Obelix had seen Asterix tortured beyond what Obelix could emotionally handle at the moment. He was beginning to doubt all magic...even Getafix's.

The druid gave Obelix's uninjured arm a reassuring pat. "It won't harm him in the least. He's far too weak and drained; this will ensure he recovers before Mastix attacks again."

Vitalstitistix raised a questioning eyebrow. "You make it sound like you expect Mastix to make it through your spell," he commented anxiously. The Chief didn't like the sound of that at all. Not only for Asterix's sake, but for all of theirs. Mastix's attacks had had a very negative effect on all the villagers. No one felt safe. Since that morning, the Gauls had been getting more and more on edge. They didn't know when and if Mastix would strike again; they didn't know whether Getafix's spell would hold; they didn't know anything. And there is nothing quite so frightening as the unknown.

Getafix was about to answer, when, all at once, he pressed a hand to his head with a wince. He staggered a little, but Obelix steadied him with one of his large, sturdy hands. The three Gauls carefully helped their druid onto the stool, where he could sit without fear of falling. Obelix didn't let go until he was sure Getafix had sufficiently regained his balance.

"Thank you," the druid sighed, running a tired hand down his face. Returning his fatigued gaze back to the Chieftain, he spoke in a strained voice. "To answer your question, Vatalstitistix; yes, I _know_ Mastix will break through." He pinched the bridge of his nose with a grimice. "He's already working to overcome it; which explains my sudden headache."

Impedimenta stared at him in shock. "You mean, what happened to you just now was because of _him_?!"

"Shh! Not so loud," Obelix shushed her, crooking a thumb in Asterix's direction.

The Chief's wife lowered her voice and continued, though just as ardently. "You can _feel_ him?!"

"In a manner of speaking; yes."

"But how is that possible?" Vitalstitistix asked apprehensively.

Again, Getafix sighed. "The Neutralizing Spell isn't like a lot of other spells I've developed over the years. Most spells can be cast and left to stand alone; but not this one. It has to be constantly held in place by what is called an anchor, or a person to which it is connected. That said person must control and maintain it, otherwise it will collapse."

Obelix looked at the druid worriedly. "Does it...hurt you?"

"Nothing more serious than a little dizziness and a sore head; at least, as far as pain goes." Getafix hesitated. "But it is tiring...and draining. It's like carrying a heavy weight, with someone repeatedly trying to push against it. Eventually, your arms can't hold the weight anymore. Mastix _will_ get through, it's just a question of what will weaken first; the spell, or me."

"But that would mean Mastix could attack us again!" Obelix cried, forgetting to lower his voice. "He could attack _Asterix_ again!"

"I know. That's why I can't let the spell drop. Until we come up with a better defense against Mastix's powers, I'm afraid I'll have to keep regulating the Neutralizing Spell."

A grim silence fell over the three Gauls gathered under the druid's roof. No matter how they looked at it, things were very bleak. No matter what they did, every option was extremely unfavorable. If they didn't keep the Neutralizing Spell monitored, it would collapse, and they would be at the mercy of Mastix's cruel intentions. But if they kept it up, Getafix would grow weaker and weaker until the wall collapsed anyway. They were just prolonging the inevitable. Mastix was going to get in, and, at the moment, they had no other way to stop him. It was worthy of panic, but, oddly enough, they found themselves eerily calm.

"Does Asterix know?" Impedimenta asked softly. She knew the small warrior would never stand for someone else suffering for his sake. Which was essentially what Getafix was doing. Though he wasn't in any physical pain, it was obviously depleting the druid's strength. He was pale, and had dark circles forming beneath his eyes. His movements were slow, and, whenever he spoke, his voice sounded weary and strained.

"No, I haven't told him. I can't imagine that would help our situation in the least. And I suggest we refrain from telling the others either. The last thing we need is for everyone to panic." The others nodded in agreement. "Now," Getafix finished, "I think it would be prudent if you all got some rest."

"What about you?" the Chief asked. He didn't like the look of their druid either. It was obvious that, of the three of them, Getafix was in the most need of rest. But, for some reason, Vitalstitistix wasn't surprised by the druid's answer.

"I will be staying up. If I were to fall asleep, the Neutralizing Spell would more than likely collapse. No, I cannot sleep tonight."

Vitalstitistix noted that Getafix left out the fact that 'tonight' wouldn't be the only night. If what the druid spoke was true, Getafix would have to stay awake until another solution to their problem could be found; and that was indefinite. Going without sleep would not go well with a man of such advanced years, even if the druid often had more energy than all of them combined. It was an unpleasant prospect, but one that couldn't be avoided.

"I'll stay awake with you," Obelix stated determinedly.

"Oh, Obelix, you do not have to do-"

"I want to." Obelix glanced toward the cot in the corner of the cottage that held his best friend. "I'll help you care for Asterix." His voice was stern and serious, and Getafix realized that the big Gaul had made up his mind. It would be useless to argue.

"Very well," the druid nodded sympathetically. He turned to the Chief and his wife. "You two go to bed. We'll meet to discuss the situation in the morning. Often that which seems impossible when we are tired, yields hope when we are renewed by sleep." Again, he left out the fact that he'd be getting none himself.

Hesitantly, Vitalstitistix and Impedimenta wished them a good night, saying that they'd stop over at Asterix's hut to check on Dogmatix. The pup had spent much of the day alone and Obelix was worried. The Chief and his wife turned and left, leaving Getafix and Obelix alone. The hut seemed so empty with them gone, even with Obelix's mighty size taking up a considerable amount of space.

"Things are going pretty badly, aren't they, Getafix?" the menhir deliveryman remarked forlornly.

The druid gave Obelix a sad, fond smile. "There are times when our situations seem darkest. But we need to hold on to hope, Obelix. Never forget that. We will get through this.'' He pushed himself up from his stool with renewed purpose. "Now, let's see what we can find to entertain ourselves. It's going to be a long night..."

**...**

**There we are, yet another chapter. :) And I'd just like to thank everyone for their awesome reviews; they are a huge encouragement. :)**


	15. Change of Focus

Obelix awakened with a jolt, blinking blearily. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he had been so tired that his eyes had just refused to stay open. The day before had been so terribly draining on him, what with all the worrying of which he had been a part. He didn't even remember drifting off. His neck and back felt a little stiff, due to the rather unnatural position he was sitting in; propped up on the little stool with his legs sprawled out in front of him and his chin resting on his chest. It was a mystery how he had managed to stay there all night without toppling to the floor, though he was very happy that he had not. He didn't want to damage the floor. With a yawn, he shifted his weight to a more upright and comfortable position.

For a moment, Obelix didn't even consider the fact that he wasn't in his own hut. He didn't even find it odd that he had spent the night sitting on a stool. He just excepted it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. That is, until he began to wake up more fully. Gazing about him with drowsy eyes, he began to take notice of the room around him. Sunlight was streaming through the window; golden beams promising yet another beautiful, though probably hot, day. Even the air smelled warm; like grass and fresh morning dew. It filled the cottage, making it look particularly welcome and cheery. Obelix began to wake up a tab bit more. There were all kinds of dried herbs and branches hanging from the ceiling, leaving small crumbs of leaves and wrinkled berries on the floor beneath them. _Hmmm. Don't remember those being there._ Over the fireplace stood a large cauldron, filled with some bubbling brew that didn't look as appetizing as it smelled. _Since when do I make breakfast in a cauldron?_ It took Obelix another full second before the truth resurfaced in his mind. _I'm in Getafix's hut!...__Oh no!...__Getafix!_

Jumping up from his seat in panic, Obelix stood up and immersed his head in a very large, thick bundle of what looked like mistletoe, hanging from the rafters. He fought to get away from it, cursing his own stupidity in letting himself fall asleep, leaving the village druid alone to face a long, sleepless night. The whole reason he had stayed behind was to help the druid stay awake. If Getafix dozed off, Mastix could hurt Asterix again. Obelix had sat down, allowing himself to get comfortable, and he didn't remember anything after that. He had fallen asleep. He had failed Getafix and, he feared, Asterix. Why had he let himself do that, by Belenos?! He continued to try and disentangle himself from the dry, prickly plants when, all at once, he was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Obelix, I don't imagine you'd make a very good farmer," the voice chuckled. "Plants seem to dislike you, if this is any indication."

That one, laughing voice was enough to fill Obelix with an immense amount of relief. With a final shove, the big Gaul dislodged the mistletoe from his face and looked to the other side of the cottage where he had not yet chanced to look. Asterix sat propped up in bed, grinning at him in amusement at his friend's struggles. The little warrior looked much better this morning; appearing a good deal less tense and sick. The color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes had regained their usual sparkle. He was sitting straight and strong, unlike the weak wilted posture he had displayed the night before. All in all, he looked perfectly normal again; much to Obelix's joy.

"Yes, and I doubt he would be much good at being a druid either," a second voice huffed.

Obelix turned slightly to the right, finding none other than Getafix, arms crossed and fixing him with a stern frown; but it was a sort of amused frown, as though he weren't truly angry. The menhir deliveryman glanced from the disgruntled druid to the badly ravaged plant hanging beside him, then back to the druid. "Sorry, Getafix,'' he mumbled guiltily. And in those two miserable words, it was obvious he wasn't just apologizing for the herbs. He felt really upset that he had fallen asleep during the night, leaving Getafix to carry on alone. Even though everything seemed all good and well, Obelix couldn't shake that unpleasant 'what if' feeling. _What if_ it hadn't been alright. _What if_ Getafix had dozed off. _What if_ the spell had collapsed..._What if_ Mastix had hurt Asterix again. There were so many possible disasters that could have resulted from his mistake, that it frightened him even more. But he pushed the feelings down, knowing that they _had't_ happened, and for that he was very thankful.

Getafix's frown turned into an understanding smile. He stepped forward and lay a gently, comforting hand on Obelix's uninjured arm. "It's alright, Obelix. No harm done." He gave the arm a final pat, to finalize that that was that. There was no reason to worry about it anymore; what had happened couldn't be changed. Nothing bad had come of it, and Obelix had learned a valuable lesson.

Asterix watched the exchange between his two friends with interest. It was odd, to say the least. Obelix looked uncommonly nervous; fidgety and restless, while Getafix seemed unnaturally calm. His movements were slow; tired; careful; as if every ounce of energy he used was valuable. Of course, Asterix knew both his friends' conditions could easily be explained by yesterday's events. He was sure that they were just as shaken about the whole thing as he was; which was pretty bad. He still didn't want to dwell on it. It was a terrible, black memory that he could barely wait to see fade. But, Asterix _was_ feeling better, and he refused to cringe back from Mastix's power, no matter how much the dark druid had hurt him. Not while he still had a breath in his body. He'd keep fighting. Mastix would never get what he wanted.

Obelix's face returned to its usual, cheerful expression as the big Gaul turned his eyes to his friend once more. He came forward, a little quicker than he meant to, and bumped against the bed in his excitement, causing it to shift, Asterix and all. "Asterix, how are you feeling?" He twiddled his fingers in front of him with just a hint of anxiety. It was obvious that Asterix was doing far better, but Obelix wanted to hear his friend say it himself. Even more, he wanted to hear Getafix say it. While Asterix often downplayed his condition, Getafix would give him the firm, solid truth no matter what.

Asterix shifted a bit under the covers, feeling uncomfortable now that the conversation had turned to him. He gave Obelix as reassuring a smile as he could muster. "Much better. It's amazing what a good night's rest can do. But now I'm ready to get up and see what we can do against Mastix." He looked sharply to Getafix, as if daring the druid to say otherwise.

Getafix didn't look like he completely approved of the idea, but he complied hesitantly. There was no use in arguing with Asterix when he was truly determined; and besides, they really could use the blond Gaul's help in finding a solution to the current problem. "I see no reason to keep you in bed. Though, if you don't mind, I'd like to give you a quick once over before you do anything."

Asterix gave a nod, throwing the sheets off of his legs and positioning himself on the edge of the cot. He was eager to get back on his feet, never having been one to stay still for very long. And with this particular threat, which he had experienced first hand, the sooner they came up with a way to deal with Mastix the better. Sitting around made him feel increasingly anxious; like time was slipping away. Every moment might count. Every second.

The druid came closer, taking Asterix's wrist as he sat on the bed to check the Gaul's pulse. Getafix frowned when he found it to be a little faster than it should to be. Of course, that was more than likely caused by stress; and Getafix _knew_ Asterix was _very_ stressed. He could see it in the smaller Gaul's stance; the way that he sat, stiff and erect, alert to a fault. But Getafix understood that. Asterix had a right to be tense, and no amount of herbs and potions could fix that. They both knew the cure; Asterix had to try and stop Mastix. Until then, the blond Gaul would feel as though a weight were resting on his shoulders.

Getafix quickly finished checking his friend over; finding nothing else out of the ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary, under the current circumstances. The little Gaul's arms were still covered with those dreadful bruises, and Getafix found it disturbing to see that they were still so dark and sore. Each time he accidentally bumped against him, Asterix would flinch slightly at the impact. The druid's own contusions had faded a good deal since the morning before, again attesting to how much harsher Mastix had been with Asterix. It would be a while before those dark shadows of Asterix's ordeal faded away. Until then, they were a grim reminder.

"Am I free to go?" Asterix asked, the slightest amount of impatience audible in his voice. He felt they were wasting valuable time, though he didn't have a clue as to what could be done. What he did know was that he had to do _something_. If for any reason, for his own ease of mind. Sitting around in fear had never done an ounce of good to anyone. It was time to act.

"I suppose," Getafix said reluctantly. He still would have preferred Asterix rest a little longer, maybe even another day, but the druid knew that would never be possible. The blond Gaul had a job to do, and nothing, not even a friend, could keep him from it. "Just...be careful."

Asterix gave Getafix a reassuring smile. "I will." He eased himself down from the bed, finding himself a little more unsteady on his feet than he was expecting. His body was still aching, due to the amount of pain and strain he had endured. He never realized just how strong magic could be, or how dangerous when in the wrong hands. The first attack had practically crushed him; and the second had felt as though he were being ripped apart. He knew, even without being told, that he was really quite lucky that he hadn't walked away with more serious an injury.

Obelix stretched out a hand to steady his friend when Asterix wobbled a bit on his feet. He was glad that the little Gaul was doing better, but he wasn't quite convinced that Asterix should be jumping right back into action so soon. He still seemed tired. Nothing compared to the day before, but unsettling nonetheless. But Obelix knew that wouldn't stop Asterix. Not when the smaller Gaul had made up his mind. So the big Gaul decided that he'd keep careful watch over his friend, and protect him the best he could; just like he always did, and Asterix had always done for him.

Asterix regained his balance quickly, giving Obelix a grateful glance. He tried to hide the fact that he was feeling just a little bit dizzy, and instead straightened his black, sleeveless tunic and looked about for his helmet. He always felt so bare without it, and it had actually bothered him not feeling it weighing down on his head. He found it on a small table beside the cot and quickly placed it back where it belonged. "Well, I guess we should see how the others are doing," he advised. "Perhaps then we can figure out what to do about Mastix."

Getafix nodded in agreement. "I do believe that would be prudent."

"They must be worried," Obelix added. Toutatis knew _he_ had been.

Asterix started for the door, both friends following closely, should the short Gaul need their help. But Asterix seemed to have found his footing once more. "Alright," he announced purposefully, "Let's go find Chief Vitalstitistix."

* * *

><p>Cacofonix stood, quietly strumming his lyre, up atop the wall parapets. This wasn't his usual choice of atmosphere; on the contrary, he much preferred the breathtaking view from his tree hut. It often inspired him; helped him to produce the most angelic ballads and sonnets, at least in his own ears, that were, unfortunately, very much misunderstood and unappreciated by the other Gauls. They always teased him, or threatened him to go someplace else, claiming that his voice was more than they could stand. Cacofonix couldn't understand what was so overpowering about his singing; and insisted that it was their bad taste in music that was the true problem. It was normally just a part of the village life. He would wake up, sing, get yelled at or thumped, and then go off someplace else to play. But this morning had proved to be especially unkind to him, and all in the form of one very grouchy fishmonger.<p>

The bard found it hard to believe that, in all the chaos that had taken place since the day before, Unhygenix still found time and reason to be mad at him. The fishmonger, who, due to the fact that his cottage had a rather large hole in its roof, had been forced to spend the night at Fulliautomatix's cottage. Unhygenix didn't have a large family, per say; but add him, a wife and two sons to the blacksmith, _his_ wife, and _his_ son and daughter and, well...it had been a very long, cramped, and miserable night for all of them. And, to top it off, Mrs. Fulliautomatix was a terrible snorer. In short, Unhygenix had awakened in a very foul mood and had resolved to place all the blame of his current misfortune on Cacofonix's clumsy mistake.

The bard wasn't usually bothered by the other Gauls' criticism and harassment; letting it simply roll off his back and continuing in his daily activities as usual. But this was getting ridiculous. Unhygenix was hounding him to the point where Cacofonix simply couldn't calmly handle it any longer. It was wearing on him, even if it didn't show, and the bard began seeking a place to get away from his less-than-agreeable companion. There was only so much a musically talented person could take, after all. So, with a huff and a twirl of his red cape, Cacofonix had retreated to the only place he was certain to be left alone; the village wall parapets.

The walls were currently deserted for two reasons, one being that there was no fear of Roman invasion at the moment. The heat of the summer was still too much for the unmotivated troops of the surrounding camps, and there was no need to guard against them. No trouble would be coming from the Romans for quite some time. The second, as well as the most prominent reason for the walls to be deserted, was that the Gauls were too frightened to go anywhere near outside the village. Getafix had made it very clear that as long as the villagers stayed within the walls, they would be safe from Mastix's power. If they left the protection of the druid's Neutralizing Spell, there would be nothing to guard them, and who knew what might happen. And so, even though the walls were still well within those parameters, the Gauls had silently and unanimously decided that they would give it a wide birth. All, of course, except for Cacofonix.

The bard was known for seeking out quiet places, whether because he liked being alone or because he had no choice in the matter. Most likely a bit of both. The wall made a practical option, seeing as the forest was strictly off limits at this time. He snuck away as quietly as he could from the others, heading toward the front wall, which faced the woods and the summertime world beyond it. That way he might be inspired to compose a sonnet of the green leaves, or perhaps the swaying, dry grass.

He was quickly disappointed, however. Once standing on the wooden platform that adorned all along the inside of the village wall, Cacofonix found that he couldn't, for the life of him, compose a single thing. His mind just wouldn't calm down enough, what with the two attacks on Asterix, as well as Unhygenix's relentless persecution. It filled his thoughts, jumping back and forth between the two depressing subjects, officially sapping any will or passion to do anything even remotely enjoyable away from him. Too distraught to sing or play, but too nervous to return to the others just yet, the bard simply gave up trying to do anything productive and leaned forward against the wall. He let his eyes wander over the tranquil forest, taking in every leaf and twig in an aimless manner.

Cacofonix had terrific eyesight. When there was something to be seen, he was usually the first to spot it. Countless times in the past, from the height of his tree, he had spied many dangers or threats when no one else had been able to. Even Getafix was at a loss as to how that was possible; but it was. Cacofonix prided himself in his abnormally sharp vision, almost as much as he prided himself in his music and voice. It seemed to be the only talent that didn't get on the villagers' nerves, and was actually respected among them. It was something that he was able to use for the benefit of the village; a sort of occupation that he seemed to hold, even if it had never audibly been called such. It often gave them a slight upper hand against their enemies; when the bard might spot a patrol or spy lurking in the shadows. But, apparently, good eyesight did not amount to much where magic was concerned.

Cacofonix gasped in shock, taking an involuntary step backward as he dropped his lyre to the wooden deck. Down below, on the ground, in front of where the bard had been standing, about two meters from the wall, stood Mastix. He had seemed to appear out of thin air. One moment he hadn't been there, and the next we was. The dark druid was looking up at Cacofonix, eyes radiating a kind of merriment, but not a pleasant kind. The smile on his lips was filled with malice; as though he would happily cause the bard great agony were he given the chance. Those eyes; that strange mixture of brown and black, pierced the distance between them, making it feel as if they were toe to toe, despite the good three meters from the top of the wall to the ground that separated them. They seemed to bore into Cacofonix, making him wonder for a moment if perhaps Mastix had broken through Getafix's spell. The dark orbs seemed to have frozen him; though, thankfully, not with magic, but with fear. Getafix's spell still held strong, but even that could not dim the pure evil that seemed to emanate from the dark druid.

"Well," Mastix smirked, enjoying the bard's obvious alarm, "I once again find myself in the presence of one of you little Gauls that my old colleague finds so important. My, you are a _thin_ one, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question; though, even if it had been, Cacofonix would not have answered it. It wasn't a relevant question; more of a taunt, meant to intimidate him. Mastix gazed up at the bard expectantly, but Cacofonix remained silent; visibly shaken from suddenly finding himself in conversation with such a frightening foe.

"I've come to speak with Getafix. I want you to get him and bring him here," Mastix continued. He appeared careless, as if it didn't matter whether the bard did what he asked or not. But something hidden deep within that voice promised terrible consequences should Cacofonix refuse to comply. "I have a..._deal_ for him to consider."

The bard didn't like the idea of that at all. Cacofonix didn't trust Mastix as far as he could throw the dark druid; which wouldn't be far at all in the least. Mastix was evil. He was a monster. He _had_ to be, after what he had done to Asterix. Whatever _deal_ he had planned, Cacofonix knew it would be to Mastix's benefit, not theirs. The bard hesitated as to what to do. Should he just walk away and ignore the man's demand, or should he run and get Getafix, like Mastix wanted?

"That is your cue, bard," Mastix growled impatiently, "Do you need a clearer one? GO!"

The loud, angry shout made up the bard's mind. Cacofonix scrambled backwards, nearly missing the ladder in his haste to get away. He didn't even stop to pick up his lyre, which still rested on the platform where he had dropped it. Once his feet hit solid earth again, he was off like a shot; the mocking laughter of Mastix ringing out from behind the wall. All the bard could think of was just how bad this could effect things. With the enemy right outside their gates, what were they going to do?

* * *

><p>The villagers were all very relieved to see Asterix up and about. Practically from the moment the warrior had stuck his toe out the door of Getafix's hut they had swarmed him, asking how he was feeling and if he needed anything. They all wanted to reassure themselves, and him, that the dangers of yesterday had passed; even though they hadn't. Trouble was stirring all around them, like a dark, ominous fog. But the Gauls would take the small joy of Asterix's recovery while it lasted. For them, it was one small bit of sunshine before the unavoidable, oncoming storm that was gathering. They'd be thankful for what they had now, and worry about the rest afterword.<p>

Asterix happily excepted their warm welcome, glad to be among them once more. For some reason, even though they had all been there the day before, Asterix had felt very much alone. Which was odd, since he had been the center of everyone's attention, even Mastix's. But he had felt trapped, especially in Getafix's cottage, where he had found himself confined twice in a single day. He had been so guilty and shocked by all that had transpired, he had locked himself up inside. Maybe it wasn't so much that he had felt alone, but that he had separated himself mentally and emotionally to the point where it was very nearly the same thing. Either way, he was very glad to be back on his own two feet. Even if they were up against a terrible new foe, at least they'd face him together.

"Dogmatix!" Obelix cried with joy as his pet ran up to him from between the legs of the villagers. The big Gaul bent down to lift the tiny pup to his face, which Dogmatix happily washed in a series of wet, enthusiastic licks. It had been nearly a day and a night since the two had seen each other; an uncomfortably long time in their opinion.

Dogmatix seemed to check his master over, frowning in his own little way as he spotted the bandage wrapped around Obelix's arm. The pup was confused, as well as concerned, as to what had happened all the day before. He had been left behind in Asterix's hut since yesterday morning, and, though he had not been able to see anything, he had felt increasingly uneasy. The door to Asterix's hut had been shut, and he had been unable to escape the cottage, but he could sense the threatening feeling that had descended over the village. As the day had progressed, Dogmatix had sensed a lot of different emotions; none of which were good. Fear; anxiety; confusion; anger...It had been one giant mixing pot of emotions. But everything seemed fine now...at least relatively so.

"It's good to see you out of that bed, Asterix," Vitalstitistix greeted, making his way through the small gathering atop his shield. He wobbled to and fro, years of practice being the only thing keeping him from toppling off his perch. His shield bearers struggled under the Chief's weight, but, beside the occasional grunt, remained silent as they shuffled around, trying to compensate for any movements their leader made above them.

Asterix smiled warmly. He had a rather fuzzy memory of the Chieftain helping to care for him the night before, though whether it was accurate, Asterix couldn't tell. "It's good to be seen." His expression fell a little. "I just wish it were under happier circumstances." A sort of depressive cloud fell over them all at him words; reminding them that the danger was still very near at hand.

"What are we going to do?" Impedimenta murmured in a small voice. From her point of view, things were looking pretty hopeless; a point of view they all unwittingly shared.

"First and foremost," Getafix advised, "We must be certain that Mastix does not get any Magic Potion." Several Gauls nodded in unison, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"But we haven't _got_ any," Unhygenix said crankily. He looked ruffled and bad tempered. Most of the other Gauls had sensed his foul mood this particular morning, and had given the fishmonger a wide birth; knowing that their bard hadn't been as lucky. "What we _did_ have, we dumped out."

Getafix agreed. "It is true we no longer have any in physical form, but I do have it up here." He tapped a finger to his forehead. "And Mastix won't give up until he is either defeated, or until he gets what he wants. We've already seen what he is willing to do to reach that goal, and I'm afraid that it may only get worse if we don't figure something out."

Mrs. Geriatrix shook her head sadly. "I just can't imagine how a man can be so...so cruel; just to get a little Magic Potion...What will it do for him? It can only gain him fear and hatred from those he...he hurts." The others gave mumbles of agreement. Beyond a doubt, they certainly felt no less for the man, especially after what he had done to their warrior.

"Mastix, like so many men, believes that power is the answer to all his problems," their druid answered. "That finally reaching his goal, no matter how hurtful or devastating it may be for others, will somehow bring him satisfaction. And, as is often the case, he will find that _having_ is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as _wanting_.*"

"So how do we go about it?" Fulliautomatix blurted out. He was a man of action, and all this talk was making him impatient. He wished with all his heart that they could just charge out and fight Mastix; sending him back to whatever rock he had crawled out from under; but even the blacksmith knew it wasn't that simple. The stinging burns on his tightly wrapped hands testified to that. This magic was unlike anything they had ever dealt with before; even Getafix was struggling to keep Mastix out. What could a village full of normal, everyday Gauls do against such power? For that was exactly what they were without the Magic Potion. Normal.

Getafix looked thoughtful. "Well, that all depends on Mastix's next move. You see, we-"

"Getafix!"

The villagers turned, some jumping to the side as Cacofonix came bolting through their midst, feet pounding against the earth and his cape fluttering out behind him. The bard came to a sudden halt right in front of the druid, bending over and gripping his knees as he tried to regain his heaving breath. He looked terribly shaken; glancing over his shoulder every moment or so as if he were afraid of being pursued. His nervous attitude was not lost on the other Gauls, who gathered around him and encouraged him to slow down and catch his breath. Though no one could ever say that the bard was a particularly calm individual, it took a lot for him to get _this_ upset. It caught the villagers' attention immediately. Even Unhygenix became concerned, his anger forgotten as Cacofonix's frightened voice broke the silence.

"It's Mastix! He's outside the gate!"

It was like a slap in the face to them all. The Gauls stood shocked for a moment, letting the bard's words sink in, before, all at once, they began flooding Cacofonix with questions. They crowded in, making the bard feel terribly trapped, not knowing who he should answer first in the overwhelming sea of questions. They all seemed to be in his face at once, demanding, inquiring, and speculating.

"Are you sure?"

"What does he want?"

"Did he mention the Magic Potion?"

"What did he say?"

"Did he get inside the village?!"

"What's happening?"

"_Did he hurt you_?"

This last question came from Getafix and silenced all the others. The Gauls all stopped dead, the words fading to soundless whispers. In their fear of the dark druid's presence, they hadn't given a thought to making sure _Cacofonix_ was alright. They all turned their attention back to the bard, expressions of guilt and worry pasted on their faces. Stepping back, they gave their friend some space as Getafix stepped worriedly forward.

Cacofonix blinked at the question, not having expected it. It wasn't very often that anyone worried over his well being. Oh, he knew they cared for him; but it seemed so rare that they showed it. Maybe that was because he rarely did anything or had anything happen to him that prompted worry. For the most part, the bard stayed within the walls of the village. He stuck to his hut, or walking along the various paths inside the walls. Once in a while he'd take a stroll in the forest, but that was very seldom. So, of all the Gauls, he was the least likely to be under anyone's concern. Now, all at once, he found himself at the very center of their concentration. They all looked at him in a half frightened-half ashamed way; as if they were already convinced he _had_ been hurt, and they had been unable to stop it. Getafix too was looking at him with concern, obviously trying to discern whether he had received any injuries or not. Cacofonix couldn't help feeling unnerved by the fact that Getafix was so uncertain of the Neutralizing Spell. Wasn't Getafix sure the spell covered all of the village, including the parapets?

"No," Cacofonix uttered uncomfortably, stepping back when the druid reached out to touch him. They didn't have time for this. "But I was up on the wall and-"

"Up on the wall?!" Unhygenix cried, stomping forward threateningly. "By Belonos, what were you doing up there?!" He sounded and looked quite angry, though that was only a mask to hide his true alarm. That morning he had very nearly dragged the bard out of bed, yelled at him for dropping that confounded table through his roof, and effectively chased Cacofonix away, not caring where the minstrel ended up going. Only he did care; now. He never would have thought the bard would go to the gates, though it was making more sense with every passing moment. But still he found it hard to express any other emotion other than anger, even when what he was truly feeling was fear, both for his friend and the rest of the village.

The bard shrank back slightly at the fishmonger's outburst. "I-I went up there to sing...But then Mastix showed up. He said that h-he wanted to speak with Getafix." Cacofonix turned to the druid. "He says he has some sort of deal he wants to tell you about."

Asterix gave Getafix a meaningful look. "You said we should wait for Mastix's next move..."

"Yes, and he has made it." Getafix braced himself mentally. This wasn't going to be pleasant. "Now, it is our turn."

"You're not going to go talk with that...that _man_, are you?!" Impedimenta squeaked. The very thought frightened her far more than she would ever admit. Even though Getafix's spell protected them at the moment, she was one of the few who knew just how fragile that security really was. All Mastix had to do was try long and hard enough, and he would break through. The Chief's wife gazed about her, letting her eyes wander over the men, the women, and the children. She hated the idea of discussing anything with Mastix, but deep down she knew it was all they could do. Some kind of plan was better than no plan.

"If I speak with him, he may unwittingly give us a better understanding of how to defend against him," the druid answered quickly. "It's not the best idea, I'll admit; but it is all we have to work with at the moment." Getafix started in the direction of the wall, but Asterix caught his wrist.

"You _are not_ going to face him alone. Not again." He smiled. "I'm going with you."

"Me too," Obelix chimed in resolutely, still holding Dogmatix in the palm of his hand.

Several other voices sprang up from the crowd, until all the men had volunteered, and even a few of the women. The children, of course, were eager to help as well, but mostly because they didn't understand just how dire the situation truly was. They had all seen Mastix's attack on Asterix the afternoon before, but they had yet to connect it to the dark druid lurking outside their gates.

"It seems," Vitalstitistix chuckled, "That we will _all_ be going up to meet this terrible villain; together. It's about time we met him face to face." He paused before adding, "And this time he does't have the upper hand."

Getafix smiled to himself. These Gauls never ceased to amaze him. They were filled with such courage and loyalty; it was beyond anything he had ever seen, both in the wide world or the Carnutes. Druids, while wise and friendly folk, were not accustomed to facing danger as a group. Every man attended to his own passions and problems. Once in a while, they would meet to discuss things, but nothing was hardly ever done collectively. That was part of why it had been so disastrous the last time Mastix had been in the Carnutes. Here, in this small, Gaulish village, beat the hearts of the most noble people Getafix could think of, or had ever even _heard_ of. There was no one the druid would rather have by his side in a time such as this.

"Very well," he said, a little reluctantly, "But let's be careful. Just because I can block his magic for the moment, doesn't mean Mastix is no longer a threat. He is a very cunning fellow, and creative when it comes to getting his way."

* * *

><p>"Ah, Getafix. I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Mastix gazed up at the Gauls lining the parapet with visible contempt. His eyes glistened with an unsteady tint of hatred and amusement; glee and malice. Even though he stood far below the villagers, his attitude and stance made it feel as if it were he who was the taller; looking down on them as if they were nothing more than insects crawling in the grass at his feet. The dark druid fixed his eyes back on Getafix, who stood in the very center; Asterix and Obelix flanking him. "I see you've gathered the masses. You always did have a sort of magnetism for the foolish and weak-minded."<p>

Getafix bristled at the insult, which wasn't just aimed at him. All around him he felt the Gauls stiffen; also offended. It would have been easy to lose his temper here, but Getafix knew that Mastix was just trying to make him do just that. He was trying to unbalance him by throwing off his emotions. Getafix decided to do his best to ignore the gibe, but it wasn't easy. "What do you want Mastix?" he demanded firmly. He had to fight to keep himself from breaking eye contact with the villain. Those terrible eyes radiated such intense evil. "Our bard says you told him to inform me that you wanted to make a deal. If it has to do with the Magic Potion, you can leave right now. We have none, and even if we did we would't give it to you."

Mastix gave a huff, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Why should I seek a lesser power when a greater one is within my reach?"

"What do you mean?" Getafix was hardly able to keep the confusion from his voice. It just didn't make sense. Mastix had demanded the Magic Potion, threatening both his and Asterix's life, only a day before. And now he insisted that he no longer wanted it? It didn't add up. Of course, it could always be a trap; a tactic to get them off their guard. Getafix wasn't sure, but he decided to play along for the moment. Perhaps then they could figure Mastix out. "There is no greater power here other than the Magic Potion, and I told you that-"

"Could it be that you do not know?" Mastix interrupted with a hearty laugh. It echoed all through the forest, sending a chill up the spines of all those present. "Oh, this is more entertaining than I ever imagined it would be!" he chuckled cruelly, before his voice sank into a taunting tone. "I used to lie awake at night, thinking of ways of getting back at you and those other idiots in the Carnutes. Your potion would have given me a chance against their combined powers, but now...now I shall flatten them with a single blow! Nothing will be able to stop me!"

"You spoke of a deal, Mastix," Getafix snapped, "Make it, and leave."

"Very well. If you insist on being so inhospitable; here is my deal. I swear to leave this village unscathed; its people unharmed, if you hand over to me that which I want. Hand over to me..." He shifted his dark eyes from Getafix to Asterix with a hostile grin. "...Your little warrior."

Asterix took an involuntary step back. Shock registered in his expression; his eyes locked with those of the dark druid. Everything else seemed to fade from his attention, even though he was vaguely aware that his friends had immediately reacted. Asterix felt himself gently pulled back from the wall by several pairs of hands, being placed firmly behind the other Gauls. They were all clearly frightened that Mastix might snatch him away right then and there, despite the Neutralizing Spell. A number of the more vocal villagers shouted above the general confusion, their voices filled with anger and determination.

"What?!"

"Not on your life!"

"You can't have him!"

"Buzz off!"

Getafix glared down at his former colleague with a rare level of passionate conviction. "It seems you have your answer. Now leave!"

Mastix's expression became livid. The smirk that had lingered about his lips formed a furious scowl as he shot out a hand to point a warning finger at the Gaulish druid. "Getafix, you fool! You cannot win against me! I will get what I seek! You cannot protect him forever! You're spell will eventually weaken, then I shall take what I want, and leave this place in desolation! You cannot defy me and live!"

"Than I shall die trying! Go!"

The dark druid glared up at them as if his very gaze were enough to burn them to ashes. Hatred glowed in those dark eyes, making them all the more frightening. He settled his glare on Asterix in a pointedly hostile manner, before Mastix threw his hands up above his head, surrounding himself once more with that sickening, green mist. A moment later, he was gone; disappeared.

The Gauls all stood in shock for several seconds, processing everything that had just transpired. It seemed to hold them immobile, before all at once the deafening quiet was broken by Obelix's anxious cry.

"Getafix! Why does he want Asterix?!"

Chaos broke out on the parapets, as everyone snapped back to reality. Their worried voices rose in pitch as they tried to determine the reason for Mastix's demand. They turned to one another, asking questions, making exclamations, a falling into a general panic. Getafix covered his ears and winced at the ascending volume. He was just as confused and concerned as they were, but the druid knew they needed to keep calm, otherwise his anxiety might cause an unpleasant side effect that they just couldn't afford at the moment.

"Stop!" Getafix shouted, catching their attention with the honest desperation in his tone. They quieted, turning and looking to him with wide, frightened eyes. "Please, stop," the druid continued more softly, but no less insistently. "If you break my concentration, the Neutralizing Spell could collapse. Then there would be nothing to protect us from Mastix." He took in their terrified expressions a little guiltily. "I can hold it just fine for now, but we cannot take the chance. We need to keep calm. Understand?"

They all nodded.

"But it doesn't make any sense," Asterix spoke up, trying to gently pry away the hands that held him. He understood that they were only trying to shield him, but he knew from experience that, if Mastix attacked, it would take much more to save him than the protective grips of his friends. They would only be in the dark druid's way, and that would only harm them as well. Besides, their hold on his arms pressed against the bruises that resided there, causing them to ache. "What would he want with me?" he asked.

Getafix rested a hand on the warrior's shoulder, looking truly lost. "I'm...I'm not sure, Asterix." His expression became more reassuring. "But be certain that I will find out." Looking up and catching the Chief's gaze, the druid suggested that they should meet and discuss all that has happened. "Vitalstitistix, is your hut available?"

"It is."

"Then lets gather there. All of us. It isn't safe to separate anymore."

**...**

***This is actually a quote from the TV series Star Trek (of which I am a _huge_ fan). I got a request in my MP from one of my readers asking me to somehow insert a quote from Spock, one of the main characters from the show. Leonard Nimoy, who played Spock, died this past week. This quote actually fit in with my story, so I decided to honor Nimoy's death by doing as my reader suggested. The quote is not exact, since it had to sound more like Getafix than Spock. Here is the actual quote:**

**"After a time, you may find that _having_ is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as _wanting_. It is not logical, but it is often true." - Spock (Amok Time)**

**I am so, SO sorry that it took me so long to get this up. I have been extremely busy, seeing as Midterms are next week. But I managed to finish this tonight and wanted to put it up. :)**


	16. Separating

Only moments after Mastix had vanished into the surrounding forest, the clear, summer sky began to darken. It started as a threatening gray, but quickly gathered into banks of unnatural black. Raindrops began to fall around the Gauls, pattering into the light, dry dust of the village soil. It caused a bit of a panic among the Gauls at first. The storm was so unexpected; so sudden, that there was no doubt in anybody's mind that it had been created by Mastix. Though the magical aspects of the dark druid's power could not penetrate the village, the physical aspects could. The rain increased in severity as the Gauls hurriedly made there way down from the parapets and made a dash for the Chieftain's hut. They all knew why Getafix had chosen Vitalstitistix's cottage as their meeting place. It was the only hut large enough to shelter all the villagers in one place comfortably. That way they would be close together, and would be able to watch out for one another.

They all arrived at the hut at relatively the same time. By then it was pouring; the rain cold and soaking into their clothes to their skin underneath. The children were ushered in first, followed by the women. The men refused to enter until they were certain that everyone was safe, then went inside themselves. As the last villager made his way indoors, a tremendous clap of thunder shattered the silence, rumbling the very ground beneath their feet. The Gauls gasped, covering their ears in an effort to block out the painfully loud sound. The children griped their parents in fear; a few of the youngest ones bursting into tears.

Getafix winced as he struggled to keep his concentration fixed on the Neutralizing Spell. All the noise was making it very difficult, as well as the fact that the Gaulish druid's mind was filling with distracting images and frightening memories. This storm was not all that unlike the one Mastix had ravaged on the Carnutes, thirty-five years before. Getafix remembered the traumatic event like it was yesterday. He remembered the fear; the destruction; the confusion; everything he had tried so hard to forget. Now, they had resurfaced, crashing against his soul like waves against a rocky shore. The faces of his frightened friends only increased the panic that continually tried to climb into his thoughts. He had to fight to keep his emotions in check. If he got too upset, the spell could, and probably would, collapse. He was too tired to deal with it all properly. The storm was making it all the harder, and Getafix was certain that Mastix had sent it for that very purpose; to cause him to falter. But Getafix managed to hold on. It took a lot, but he managed it. Turning his back on the outdoors, he set his mind to those at hand.

Impedimenta was assisting the other women in calming the children, while Asterix led the men in shoring up the windows and the door. A terrible wind had begun to blow in from the sea, carrying a bitter cold that was more common for the rains of late autumn than the hot days of summer. All the Gauls were shivering; the rain having drenched them to the skin.

Getafix took notice of this, and decided that they needed a means to get warm and dry. With Impedimenta and Vitalstitistix's permission, Getafix had Fulliautomatix help him remove the red dividing curtain that separated the Chief's council 'room' from the rest of the cottage. It was really only one room after all, and removing the divider would not only make more space, but would make it so the heat from the fireplace beyond the curtain spread to all corners of the hut. Luckily, the Chief and his wife still had a good amount of firewood stored indoors, out of the rain, and before long there was a roaring fire blazing and warming them all. It felt odd trying to produce so much heat during the summer, but the air had become almost frigid. Without the comforting flames, one might have been able to see one's own breath. Outside it was as dark as night, despite the fact that it was only late morning. This was no natural thunderstorm.

The children were set by the fire, being most at risk of becoming ill from the cold. They were supplied with a number of blankets, wrapped tightly in bundles within the glow of the fire. A few of the mothers managed to put together a hasty stew, nice and warm, and served it to all the other villagers. Once everyone had been fed and dried to at least a more tolerable comfort, the level of anxiety became a little more bearable. Soon after, the children began to drift off to sleep; worn out by all the excitement. Then, and only then, did the adults feel they could discuss all that had happened. The Gauls sat in the corner, with the exception of Getafix, who stood, talking quietly so as not to wake the slumbering youngsters. And they had a _lot_ to talk about.

"We are _not_ going to hand Asterix over to that...that _monster_!" Impedimenta declared angrily, even though no one present disagreed with her. She looked terribly frazzled. Her usually well-kept and braided hair had slipped from the entwined fashion, protruding in wet strands upon her shoulders and back. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and her eyes caught the firelight fiercely.

"Of course not, 'Pedimenta, My Dear" Vitalstitistix soothed carefully. His wife could have a nasty temper, a fact he had been unaware of when he had married the woman. But he did love her dearly, despite being a little afraid of her sometimes formidable wrath. But she knew better than to fear them giving Asterix to Mastix; his wife knew that well enough. No matter how dire their situation might become, they would never even dream of handing over one of their own. It was against their nature; against everything they believed in.

"Just let him try and take our warrior," Geriatrix growled. He waved his T-shaped cane over his head menacingly. "I'll beat the tar out of him!" Even though everyone, including the old man himself, knew that none of them could stand a chance against Mastix, the thought was what really counted. The words were very much appreciated. Geriatrix was the oldest among them. Sometimes they wondered it he even predated Getafix. They often forgot that he had been an adult even while they had been children. He had always been a pillar of wisdom in the society, even if he was a little senile at times. Beside him, his young wife fussed over the fact that his clothes were still damp.

"I just don't get it," Asterix muttered in confusion. "Why would he be after me? I have nothing; not even the Magic Potion." He looked up at Obelix, who sat beside him. The large Gaul had not left his side for a moment. Asterix knew his friend was worried. They all were.

"Are we sure he knows that?" Unhygenix wondered aloud. "I mean, what if he thinks Asterix still has his gourd of potion?"

Obelix frowned. "Mastix said he doesn't want the potion anymore," he reminded them. "So why would he want the gourd?" It seemed all so complicated to him. One minute Mastix wants this and the next Mastix wants that. And _that_ just so happened to be his best friend. In Obelix's mind, he didn't care whether the dark druid was really after Asterix or not. All he understood was that Asterix needed to be kept safe at all costs. Mastix had hurt him enough; and Obelix was determined to make sure it wouldn't happen again. The big Gaul scooted just a tab bit closer to his friend; guarding him.

"But the question is whether that's the truth or just a ruse to throw us off guard," Getafix grunted in agitation. He felt as if they were talking in circles.

"We seem to have a lot more questions than answers," a villager in the back chimed in. The others mumbled in agreement.

Cacofonix had been sitting quietly by the wall side, listening carefully. He had been running the situation through his mind over and over again, and there was still one thing that wouldn't leave him alone. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to speak. "But he did sort of give us a clue." All the villagers turned there heads to look at him, and he almost wished he hadn't said anything.

"What do you mean?" Fulliautomatix inquired.

The bard shifted nervously, but voiced his thoughts despite his discomfort. It was odd how he didn't mind singing or arguing in front of others, but when it can to talking seriously he became so edgy. "He said that he was after a power greater than the Magic Potion. All we have to do then is figure out what that is, and how it's connected to Asterix. Surely you must have something even better than the potion, Getafix."

The druid shook his head sadly. "The Magic Potion is my greatest achievement. As far as I know, there is nothing in this village that would fit that description. Nor anywhere else."

"So we're back to where we started," Fulliautomatix grumbled in frustration, thumping his fists against his legs angrily. "Why does he want Asterix? Why not ask for _you_, Getafix? You're more valuable to the fiend than he is." The blacksmith gave Asterix an apologetic look. "No offense."

"No, no; you're right," the blond warrior assured. "Getafix would be the more logical choice. He's a druid. He knows magic. He's the one only one here who's a threat to Mastix. So..."

Getafix sighed. "So why you and not me."

Asterix nodded.

The rest of Gauls shifted their eyes to the floor in front of them. They were beginning to think they weren't going to come up with anything. Mastix had them cornered. No matter what they did, the outcome always calculated out to be terribly unfavorable. Outside, lightening flashed, followed soon after by a loud clap of thunder. Thankfully, it wasn't as tremendous as the one before, but it still managed to startle the villagers terribly. It only added to the dark, depressing, and hopeless mood that seemed to have settled around them.

Getafix gazed into space, thinking deeply. What if Mastix really was just after Asterix? What did that mean? As far as the druid knew, Asterix was perfectly ordinary. In fact, as Gauls go, he was a little less. Without the potion, Asterix was one of the weaker villagers. Not because he lacked strength, but because of his size. Alone, he wasn't at all intimidating. He didn't even weigh that much. Getafix had seen perfectly average, everyday people lift the blond Gaul with a single hand. Though, of course, they had suffered when Obelix had found out. Asterix was small and short...Very much like his father. That thought made Getafix smile softly. His mind wandered back to his days when he had first come to the village. Things had been so simple then. He remembered all the years since that time. He had watched all these villagers grow from child to adult. He had seen them learn and mature, at least to a degree, and knew each of their personalities like the back of his hand. He could sometimes even predict what one would say and how one would answer.

But, out of all the Gauls, Asterix was special to Getafix. Asterix and Obelix. Not because he cared for them any more than the others, but because the druid himself had helped to bring them into the world. He remembered how small and precious they had been. He had been able to hold both at the same time, one in either arm. Oh, how he never would have guessed how large Obelix would one day be! The two had been born at the same time, which was definitely unusual. Could that be the reason for Mastix demanding them to hand over Asterix? Was there something somehow connected to that? No...That didn't make sense. Because that would mean that Mastix would want Obelix too. What ever his former colleague wanted in Asterix, it had to be something exclusive to the smaller Gaul. Something special.

All at once Getafix felt a memory resurface in his mind. It was faint, nearly forgotten in the years and years of being left in the far corner of his brain. It was as if it needed to be dusted off; carefully unwrinkled so that he could fully remember it. It was...a feeling...an emotion...when Asterix and Obelix had been born. He recalled it now. A terrible feeling of foreboding; danger. It had happened while he had been holding the two newborn infants. He had been certain at the time that it had emanated from one of them, though he hadn't been able to tell who. Could it have been Asterix? And did that feeling somehow relate to this new threat to the village? If so, that not only meant that Getafix had made the right decision in staying in the village, but that there was something very much special indeed about Asterix. Which brought back even more unpleasant memories, but also the very beginnings of an understanding. A possibility, that he hadn't considered; but also had no way of testing. For that he would need help. The druid opened his mouth to voice some of these thoughts to the others when, quite suddenly, he was overcome with an intense dizziness.

The villagers jumped, startled, when Getafix and Asterix suddenly gasped in unison, reeling back as if struck by an invisible force. The druid clutched his head as he swayed dangerously, while Asterix visibly stiffened, his breath quickening slightly. The Gauls sprang to their feet, fear evident in their expressions. They didn't need anyone to tell them what was happening. They knew it was Mastix. Several villagers reached out their hands to assist their two friends, but then remembered what had happened before and shrank back. They were just beginning to _really_ panic when, all at once, Getafix and Asterix seemed to break free of whatever held them. They tiredly slumped back against whatever they happened to be sitting or standing near; which, for Asterix, happened to be Obelix.

"Are you alright?!" the big Gaul exclaimed, gently clutching his friend with his large, rough hand. He glanced over the smaller Gaul, afraid of finding an injury, before looking down into Asterix's face, as if he would be able to get an answer to his question there.

Asterix nodded, a little weakly at first, but quickly regaining strength. "I-I'm alright. Just a little out of breath..." He eased himself up and looked over at their druid. "Getafix?"

"...I'm fine...But _none_ of us may be for very long."

"Why not?" Vitalstitistix asked nervously. He had a nasty feeling that Getafix's prediction about the spell might be rearing its ugly head. Ever since Getafix had told him of the side effects to the protection spell, he had felt as if it foreshadowed a certain unfavorable situation that was to sure arise. It seemed his worries were well founded.

"The Neutralizing Spell is weakening," the druid answered reluctantly. He really wished he had more encouraging news. "What just happened testifies to that. For a moment, our enemy broke through. Luckily, I was able to regulate the spell; strengthening it back up. But I have no idea how long it will hold."

"And Asterix?" Obelix spoke up uneasily, "What happened to him?"

"Mastix may want Asterix, but his magic is still focused on him. If my spell falls, it will be Asterix who suffers." Getafix sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He once again had a terrible headache and an intense desire to sleep. Thus far he had managed not to drop off, even after keeping awake all night long. He had even mixed a special, bitter-tasting brew, brown and thick, to help him stay conscious; but now, even that was beginning to lose effect. In fact, he felt more tired now than before he had drunk it. _I guess that brew still has a few bugs to work out._

"But that makes even less sense!" Unhygenix cried out. He crossed his arms over his chest, scowling in confusion. This whole business was getting more and more complicated with each passing moment.

Asterix stood up carefully with Obelix's help. He felt safer standing than sitting, even though he knew that that would make little difference. Mastix would be able to reach him no matter what. But it made him feel more at ease on his feet. "Actually, it does, if you think about it. If he hurts me, he hurts you. Maybe he thinks if he injures me bad enough...you'll hand me over just to spare me the pain he'll cause."

The Gauls thought about that for a moment, letting the meaning sink in; and they didn't like it one bit. That meant that all the pain Asterix had endured thus far hadn't been for the warrior benefit, necessarily. It had been meant to target _them_. Making them helplessly stand by and watch their friend suffer. Mastix knew it made them feel defeated; knew it made them feel hopeless. If that was indeed his plan, things could, and probably would, get a lot worse. And the sad thing was, it was almost working, at least as far as hurting them. They felt nearly overwhelmed with guilt and fear. Their hands were tied. They couldn't let Asterix continue to endure such agony as Mastix caused, but they most certainly couldn't hand Asterix over either. If Mastix wanted their warrior, it couldn't be for anything good.

Vitalstitistix sighed heavily. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Getafix began to pace, a hand held to his beard in though. After a moment, he paused, turning to the villagers who were nervously watching his every move. "It's obvious we need help," the druid concluded. "Alone I cannot handle Mastix's power, but, with the assistance of another druid, it might be possible to buy us some more time."

"But you're the only druid around these parts," Fulliatomatix pointed out. "Where do we find another one?"

"In the Forest of the Carnutes."

The Gauls' mouths hung open in shock, before Vitalstitistix cried out, "But that's over four hundred kilometers away! It would take four days to travel there by foot, and another four to get back! And that's with no stops along the way! That's far too long a time!"

"The trip would be faster on the way back," Getafix assured, warming to the idea. "We druids do use horses from time to time, you know. And I'm sure they wouldn't mind a few being borrowed. That should cut the travel time in half." He nodded sadly. "As for the trip there, that might be a little more of a problem..."

"But who will go?" Unhygenix asked.

Asterix raised a hand to volunteer. "I-"

"No Asterix; not you," Getafix said sternly. That was the last thing they needed. As it was, things were bad enough without their enemy catching the one person he so desperately wanted to get his hands on. The druid's expression softened. "Mastix is focused on you, Asterix. If you go out there, he'll sense it. No; it has to be someone he won't expect."

"How about me?"

"Hmm...No, Fulliautomatix; though that is very brave of you. You are far too strongly built to go sneaking about through the forest without being detected. And you're not the most graceful fellow here. I've seen your idea of stealth, and I assure you it wouldn't work." There were several chuckles at this statement before Getafix added, "That's also why we can't send Obelix. While he's faster then anyone, it would do little if Mastix heard him crashing through the forest. Mastix would have a spell after him in a second."

"And Obelix couldn't outrun his magic?" Asterix asked, though he much preferred that his friend stay by his side. It was an opinion that his large friend shared strongly.

"No," Getafix answered sadly. "Nothing can outrun magic; he wouldn't be able to get away." The druid paused, knowing how his next words were going to be received. "I was thinking more of Cacofonix."

There were several exclamations of surprise, as well as disapproval. Not that they were against the bard being chosen, but it just didn't seem like such a good idea. Cacofonix wasn't used to going on missions. They couldn't barely remember him ever being on one; and certainly not _alone_. All around, it seemed to spell trouble. They didn't want him to get hurt either, which was even more cause for their vote against the suggestion. Of all of them, the bard was the least experienced in battle. They didn't even know if he knew _how_ to fight. A musician was hardly expected to learn such things, and though he had pounded a few Romans time and again, that had been under the influence of the Magic Potion. Even a child could do that.

The bard seemed equally concerned. He stood up in alarm, which did little to convince the others that he was the right choice. "M-me?"

Getafix moved forward until he was in front of Cacofonix. He knew that the bard was frightened; that they all were. But, as the druid saw it, they had little choice in the matter. "Yes, Cacofonix. You're one of the fastest among us, and you're so light and sure of foot, I very highly doubt that Mastix would pick you up. All you'd have to do is be very careful."

"Wait, wait, wait," Unhygenix stuttered, also raising to his feet. He pointed a chubby finger against the druid's chest. "I thought you said it wasn't safe to separate anymore. If he goes out there, he might get caught!"

There was a moment of unsure silence, which, surprisingly, was broken by Cacofonix's soft voice. "But if we all stay here, we haven't got a chance...I'll go, Getafix." He met the druid's gaze and actually smiled. "But you'll have to tell me how to get there. I'm not used to traveling very far. That's more Asterix and Obelix's occupation usually."

Getafix returned the smile. He reached forward, putting a comforting hand on the bard's shoulder. He knew this couldn't be an easy decision for the young muscisian. But, just like any of his fellow Gauls, he was willing to take the chance. "I'll do better than that, I'll draw you a map. Impedimenta, have you any parchment and some form of ink?"

"I think we do, let me go see." The woman returned with a small amount of black ink, a gift from a friend in Egypt they had happened to meet sometime in the past, and a medium sized sheet of papyrus, also from Egypt. It wasn't much, but it would serve its purpose. Impedimenta had been saving the remaining amount for a special ocation, maybe for a letter to her brother, Homeopathix. Though, this was far more important.

It took some time to prepare. Getafix drew out a careful map for Cacofonix, walking the bard through it multiple times. It was more difficult than the druid had inticipated to create a drawn image of a trail he had taken so many times in his life. He had traveled that road so many frequently that it had become more of a habit than anything to get from the village, there, and back again. He had to search his memory for certain landmarks that might help Cacofonix along the way. He was moderately satisfied with the end result, though he would have liked to have been able to do better.

But Cacofonix did very well; asking questions that were really quite sensible on his part. The bard was more educated than most of the villagers, being the only one eligible to teach, other than Getafix. He had taught the children for a number of years; alternating between him and the druid. He did fairly well in that area, as long as he didn't sing. He could read maps quite well, and was among the few in the village who could actually write. He knew his directions, as well as how to tell them by the stars, as most of the Gauls knew how to do. All in all, Getafix was quite certain that Cacofonix was perfectly qualified to take on the mission. Experience would have been good too, but the bard was slightly less proficient in that area.

While the druid and the bard conversed, the other Gauls did their part. Some warmer clothes were donated by Vitalstitistix himself, though they were far too large for Cacofonix. But, if the chill in the air _inside_ the hut was any indication of the temperature outside, the bard would need all the warmth he could get. The women hunted around in the kitchen, finding a series of less-perishable foods that Cacofonix might take with him. They packed what they guessed would be right for four days worth of travel, though it was most likely more than the bard would need. Cacofonix didn't eat all that much, after all; which explained his thin stature.

They all worked quickly and efficiently, knowing that time was of the essence. Despite the dark, foreboding storm that raged outside, they guessed it was going on noontime; though it was impossible to tell for sure. Their tasks were done quietly, mostly so as not to wake the children, but also because they were worried. If Cacofonix was caught, Mastix would use him to get to Asterix. Of that, they were certain. But, Getafix was right. They couldn't just sit around and do nothing. No matter how much they wanted to dispute it, they knew Cacofonix was the right choice. The bard was very quiet; hardly noticeable most times...when he wasn't singing. But they trusted him to refrain from any form of music while away. Fear of Mastix would convince him to be as silent as humanly possible, and besides, his lyre still lay on top of the wall parapets; in the rain.

Finally, everything that had needed to be done had been taken care of, as well as packed. Getafix rolled up the parchment map and handed it to Cacofonix with some kindly advice.

"Alright, Cacofonix. As long as you turn your back to the sea and go straight, you should be fine. Once you get out of our area I am certain the storm will lift. Even Mastix does not have the power to curse an entire country. My guess is that the storm only resides here, around our village. Once you are out, you should be able to reach the Carnutes by heading due East. Do your best. Travel as quickly as you can. When you get there, ask for the Venerable Chief Druid, and mention my name. I'm certain he will be more than willing to help." He paused, eyeing the nervous bard with sympathy. The fellow looked quite frightened, griping the map with both hands, keeping it pressed to his chest as if he were afraid he would lose it. He almost looked comical, dressed in clothes far too large for him; but there was nothing humorous about this situation at all. The druid sighed. "I'm sorry to put this all on your shoulders, Cacofonix."

The bard gave another nervous smile. "Th-that's alright," he stuttered, "I-I was due for an adventure anyhow."

Impedimenta came forward and handed the bard a small sack. "Here, Cocafonix." It wasn't very heavy, but it did contain quite a few lumps of something or other. The musician reached out a hand to take the object.

"What is it?"

"A bit of cheese, apples, and some bread. Should last you a few days." She hesitated, looking into his face worriedly. The thought of their bard out alone, and in such weather, concerned her greatly. She disliked the bard's singing as much as the next Gaul, but no one could ever say they disliked Cacofonix himself. If something were...ever to happen to him; he would be sorely missed. "Be careful."

He nodded, taking the sack gratefully. The bard looked around at the faces of his friends and neighbors, gathered around him anxiously. In their expressions he could clearly read the worry and fear for him, and it filled him with a feeling of purpose and courage, that he certainly hadn't felt a moment before. "I'll go as quick as I can," he promised. "I'll bring help." He carefully tossed the sack over his shoulder, wrapping the excess material of his new clothes a little tighter around himself. He actual looked the part now. The usual blue and white-checkered attire with red cloak had been exchanged for a dark green tunic and a brown vest that had been donated by one of the other villagers. The only bit of his original clothing he still wore was his white pants and blue shoes. The cloak they had decided on discarding altogether. It wouldn't be easy to run, if he was forced to, with any trailing material to trip him up. He looked odd in this new outfit, his appearance reminding one much more of a traveler or merchant than a bard.

"Well, I guess I'll go," he remarked, a little reluctantly. While he was anxious to help his people, he was still very frightened about going off alone.

"Someone should walk him to the gate," Impedimenta commented quickly. She felt as if they were throwing their friend out of his own village, even though she knew the bard was going willingly. The least they could do was stay with him as long as possible, even if it was just to the village limits.

Surprisingly, it was Fulliautomatix who immediately volunteered, along with a still rather guilty Unhygenix. Goodbyes were said all round, some of the women even giving Cacofonix a tearful hug. The bard took the attention with obvious discomfort, though he was very grateful. After receiving a few final words of encouragement and wisdom, Cacofonix, Fulliautomatix, and Unhygenix headed out the door into the driving rain.

The village was practically a mud pit by this time, every puddle a vast pool of dark, brown muck and mire. Some spots were flooded altogether. The dry, summer had shriveled the ground of all moisture, and the sudden torrential rains hadn't soaked in as quickly as it would have otherwise. This caused small rivers of runoff to trail on and along the paths; creating small canyons in the dirt. The air was bitterly cold; it was a wonder it wasn't snowing.

The blacksmith and the fishmonger hurriedly led the way to one of the small side gates in the village wall. They weren't used very often. In fact, sometimes the villagers forgot they were even there. But Getafix had remembered, and had suggested that that be the way in which Cacofonix should leave. It was better than waltzing right out through the front gates.

Fulliautomatix unlatched the old, wooden door, glancing outside it quickly to make sure the coast was clear. Turning back he grasped the bard's hand in a warm, heartfelt handshake. "Good, luck." And from the sincere tone in his voice, Cacofonix knew he meant it. The bard returned the gesture carefully; mindful of the blacksmith's still wrapped hands.

Unhygenix coughed lightly into his fist, getting the bard's attention. When Cacofonix turned to him, the fishmonger stuck his hand out awkwardly, offering a stiff handshake of his own. He half expected the bard to refuse it, after all Unhygenix had said to him earlier that morning, but Cacofonix took it without hesitation, gently, like he had with Fulliautomatix; his face actually conveying a hint of relief.

"Hey..." Unhygenix quavered genuinely, "Watch your step out there, alright?"

The bard smiled. "Alright." He peeked out into the dark, cold forest beyond the gate. Gathering the courage to step outside the protection of Getafix's Neutralizing Spell. "I'll be back." With that he stepped out into the darkness. The fishmonger and the blacksmith watched, standing in the driving rain until they could no longer see their friend, and even then they stayed there a few extra minutes.

"He'd better...," Unhygenix choked out, his emotion breaking through without his consent. "...Or I'll kill him."

Fulliautomatix turned his head to look at the fishmonger, knowing that that was as close to a 'I hope he'll be alright' as Unhygenix would ever get. Nodding, the blacksmith sighed; slowly closing and re-latching the gate.

"Me too."

**...**

**There we go. :)**

**It took me a while to decide who to send to the Carnutes, I'll admit. For a while, Fulliautomatix was my choice. But after a lot of discussion with my brother and sister (those poor souls who listen to me ceaselessly talk about this story), I came to the conclusion that it should be Cacofonix. He's faster, and lighter on his feet. He certainly isn't as strong as some of the others, but this situation asked for stealth rather than strength. :)**

**I also have good news: I have a spring break coming up this coming weekend! Then, as long as nothing goes wrong, I intend to write like a crazy person! :D**


	17. Shift

The moment Cacofonix stepped outside the village, the storm around him intensified tenfold. Beyond the safety of the Neutralizing Spell, there was nothing to soften the blow of the monstrous gale that seemed to be tearing the forest apart. The temperature had dropped too, just as Getafix had predicted. The bard was instantly grateful for the layers of clothing he had been given. His normal attire would not have done a thing for him; being far thinner and summer-time friendly than the tunic and vest donated to him by the villagers and the Chief. Even then, he had to tuck his hands beneath his arms and press them close against his body to keep warm.

The darkness around him was thick and unnatural; terribly uncomfortable to a Gaul who enjoyed sunshine and light above almost anything. It took his eyes a moment or two to adjust, leaving him blinking, even as he made his way forward into the forest. The woods themselves were even darker, holding some sort of dark fog, or mist. The wind and rain tore through the trees, bending them mercilessly and causing them to creak and groan. The blasts of frigid air smashed into him from every direction, and he had to zigzag along as the wind would force him a little to the left, or a little to the right. The rain was far worse outside the village, with drops the size of small stones, pounding against the ground with low, audible thumps. They beat down on the bard, drenching him in minutes.

The first order of business, Cacofonix knew, was to get out of the storm. If Getafix was right, and he almost always was, then as soon as he left the area, the tempest should dissipate. After a moment or two of trying to figure out where he was and which direction he was facing, he finally determined that the sea was to his far left. Turning his back to the salt water expanse, he walked straight, directly away from it, as Getafix had instructed.

He entered the forest carefully. His feet hardly made any noise against the soggy grass; not that anyone could have heard anything above the sound of the storm anyway. But Getafix had stressed that Cacofonix stay perfectly quiet. Apparently, Mastix had very good hearing, though even the bard could sense it was more than that. The dark druid more than likely had spells all over the woods, set there to keep watch over the land; to be his eyes and ears. But Getafix had been sure that, with his focus so intensely set on the village, Mastix would be far less likely to pay any attention to his other defenses. At least, that was Getafix's hope. Personally, Cacofonix thought it was an awfully high stake to bet one's life on; or a whole village, but he trusted their druid's judgement.

There was a loud _snap_ above the bard's head, causing him to glance up fearfully. A branch gave way, crashing to the ground where the Gaul had been standing only a moment before. To avoid it, he had been forced to leap forward, and even then it had been far too close. The very forest seemed to be against him. Twigs and tall grass whipped out at his legs with a force that actually stung, probably scratching the skin beneath the clothing. The wind blew rainwater from his dripping wet hair into his eyes. But that wasn't the worst of it. Cacofonix knew that, somewhere within this forest of swaying timber, Mastix was lurking; like a dreadful beast. He might even be watching him at that very moment.

That thought brought the bard to an instant halt. His mind fell headlong into a desperate struggle; his fear screaming at him to turn back, but his heart telling him to continue forward. He couldn't just abandon his friends. But what had they been thinking?! Among the villagers, he was the weakest; the least experienced! And they were trusting enough to put their fate in _his_ hands?! By Toutatis; even _he_ could see the pure lunacy in that! The bard took a small, slow step backward.

But...they needed him to do this. Even if it scared him more than he had ever been in his whole life. If he failed them, what would happen?

They would be defeated.

The thought sent a shudder all through Cacofonix. They would be at Mastix's mercy and, as of yet, the dark druid had never shown that he had such a quality. He might hurt them...He might _kill_ them. Now that was something that Cacofonix would never allow, no matter how frightened he may be. He once recalled hearing that bravery was not the lack of fear, but of doing something right _despite_ the fear. If that was so, even the bravest struggled with what he was feeling...even Asterix? Of course. Asterix was human after all; and everyone is afraid of something. With these thoughts filling him with determination, the bard reclaimed the step he had taken back, and continued forward once more.

Cacofonix made his way through the forest, in as straight a line as he could manage. The wind and weather made it difficult at times, but it helped that he knew the woods fairly well. He had walked them many times as a child, and even more often as an adult. It was usually a place of peace and tranquility...nothing like it was now. The trees blocked out a good portion of the rain, but the water gathered on the ground, until it was more like wading through an ankle-deep marsh than a forest. The bard felt a twinge of regret that the clothes his friends had lent him were getting ruined so quickly. He hadn't been out for more than twenty minutes, but he was already covered with more mud and moisture than he had ever been in his life.

Swiftly making his way through the bowing brush weighed down by rainwater, Cacofonix carefully climbed over a series of fallen trees. It was a shame that the storm had knocked them down; they hadn't been terribly ancient. If Dogmatix could see the uprooted timbers, he'd probably faint dead away. But Getafix would be able to replant some when this whole mess was over, and that was some consolation.

The wind was really doing a lot of damage, and the forest was beginning to look a lot less like itself and a whole lot more like someplace completely different. Cacofonix eased himself down the side of a muddy embankment. It felt like he had been walking for an eternity, and he began to convince himself that he _must_ be almost out of the woods by this point. That suddenly made Cacofonix realize just how badly he wanted to get out of the dark, shrouded mist. Images of sunshine and color flashed in his mind, spurring him to quicken his pace. Putting on an extra burst of speed, his feet patted almost silently against the earth as he ran. The bard spotted a break in the foliage a moment later, and a great need to reach it filled him. Cacofonix had never had claustrophobia, necessarily; but the tight, depressing confines of the pressing forest had instilled in his heart such black despair, that he had felt as though he were suffocating. Now that relief was in sight, he found himself rushing to meet it, all caution momentarily forgotten.

It turned out to be a clearing, however. One that the bard wasn't so familiar with; or, at least, he didn't think he was. While the rest of the forest was caught in a fierce tempest, the clearing he burst into was calm; almost eerily so. There was no wind, nor rain; all was perfectly still. But it was far from the relief he had been hoping for. The glade was filled with a swirling, black fog. It was so thick that Cacofonix held his breath; afraid to inhale it. The temperature was dreadfully warm, like hitting a solid wall of blistering heat. The bard skidded to a halt, his heart faltering with fear. Fear; terror, not because he was lost, but because there, standing only a short distance away...was Mastix.

The dark druid wasn't facing him, thank Toutatis; but that did little to allay Cacofonix's horror. The bard backpedaled quickly, reemerging with the underbrush. He knelt down, griping his chest as his heart pounded away, and kept his eyes trained on the frightening figure through the bushes.

Mastix appeared to be concentrating very hard. His eyes were shut tight; mouth pressed in a thin, smirking line. His hands were held out in front of him like claws; facing the village, the bard realized. That sickening green mist was all about him, mixing with the inky, black fog. It glowed and pulsed, almost making audible thrums as it fed of Mastix's power...or perhaps it was Mastix who was being fed. The dark druid was very focused, but his posture and mannerisms spoke of a barely contained hostility. Cacofonix nearly collapsed in on himself as he slowly began to understand just how close he had come to being caught.

It seemed the bard's natural ability at stealth had actually paid off. Even as he had been running through the forest and into the clearing, he had hardly made a sound. Or, perhaps, Mastix was just too focused to notice him. Either way, the bard was very grateful that he had not been heard. If the dark druid managed to capture him, Cacofonix knew that the other villagers would be trapped. For Mastix to have any hostages would bring terrible circumstances down on all their heads. After all, with Mastix threatening the life of one Gaul, how could they save him? They couldn't give up one Gaul for another. And, though Asterix would probably trade himself in an instant, Cacononix knew the others wouldn't allow it. And neither would he. There had been times in the past when, in their many encounters with evil characters, one of the villagers had fallen hostage to the enemy. It had been a nearly hopeless situation; and without an insane amount of luck, and the courage of a number of very brave individuals, it would have ended in dreadful tragedy.

Cacofonix had no desire to put his friends through that kind of torment. He had seen the effects of such a situation, and he would do almost anything to keep it from happening again. Things were complicated enough as it was. He needed to move on and find his way to the Carnutes. Sitting around here would do absolutely nothing to help his friends. And so, keeping his eyes locked on the dark druid, who was still performing his black spells, the bard began to carefully back away from the clearing.

_CRACK!_

Yes; it was true that Cacofonix was very skillful in the art of stealth...but nobody is perfect. As he had shifted his foot behind him, the bard had stepped on a particularly brittle twig. With a loud snap, the sound sent what felt like a vibration of alarm throughout the entire forest. Even with the howling wind and driving rain, it seemed to echo, announcing the bard's presence like a trumpet in Caesar's court. Cacofonix snapped his gaze down to the tattletale object in terror, eyeing it as if he had just been bitten by a venomous snake. Whipping his head around back in the direction of his enemy, the bard cringed involuntarily when he saw that Mastix had lowered his arms to his side. The green mist had faded in intensity, though it still hovered about the dark druid like a threatening aura, and the strange, eerie calm that had existed within the clearing now stretched to cover every inch of the shrouded wood. The storm no longer raged. It was as if everything had frozen; becoming perfectly still, filling the bard with an overwhelming sense of dread. Cacofonix couldn't hear a single sound throughout the entire forest...except for the painfully loud beating of his own heart in his ears.

Mastix stood straight and erect; unmoving. He did not seem alarmed or surprised, but was calm, as if he had expected this very thing to happen. Perhaps he had even planned it. Getafix had warned the bard that the dark druid had more than likely posted spells all through the woods. Why else would Cacofonix suddenly up and run into the clearing? He would never have done that!...Unless his judgement had been clouded. With fear. It suddenly became very clear to the bard that he had walked right through some sort of trap. A panic spell, maybe; if such a thing existed. But no use dwelling on that. All that truly mattered now was worrying about what would come next.

"I know you're here." Mastix's voice sounded sickeningly sweet; kind, but in a way that made the bard tremble. "I can't tell who you are...but I know you're here. I can feel your presence." As if to prove his point, the dark druid slowly turned to face Cacofonix's direction. For a moment, the bard felt as though his heart had stopped. Mastix was looking right at him. But that wasn't possible! He was quite well hidden by the shrubs and bushes. But them Mastix's gaze shifted slowly, and Cacofonix realized that, while the dark druis _was_ aware of his presence, his exact location was still undetermined. But...Mastix could feel him? That was an unpleasant thought. How come he hadn't felt him before? Why now? _Because he wasn't focused on me_ before, Cacofonix realized. He had inadvertently broken both Mastix's focus and his attack on the village. While that, in a way, was a good thing; it meant nothing of the kind for him. Cacofonix shrank back even more as Mastix's icy tone drifted to him once more.

"Oh, come now; there's no use hiding. You will come forward, willingly or no." The dark druid held a hand to his chest, just over his heart, in an almost sincere manner. But his intentions were anything but. The moment he had done so, Cacofonix felt an odd sensation crash over him, strong enough to make him gasp ever so softly. It wasn't exactly pain; not in the sense that it physically hurt him, but it seemed to rush into his mind; invading his thoughts. The bard was suddenly overcome with an almost irresistible desire to step out into the open and give himself up. It prodded and pushed at him mentally, and he had to fight to keep himself hidden where he was. It was as if everything within him was urging him to go forward; as though there wasn't the least bit of harm in it. But every fiber within the bard that remained unaffected, braced itself against the magical assault. He fought to keep control, sometimes nearly taking a step forward, then forcing himself to stuggle a step back. It was draining the energy from him very quickly, and Cacofonix could feel himself beginning to slip. He wouldn't be able to resist this much longer.

Mastix grinned wickedly, thrumming in a deep, almost sing-song voice. "Come out, come out; wherever you are..."

* * *

><p>The villagers sat inside the Chieftain's hut looking particularly agitated. They were worried, though that wasn't anything new. But with each twist of the situation, different problems kept arising. With each new problem, came new worries. Cacofonix had left only a short while ago, and their thoughts were still firmly fixed on the bard. Fulliautomatix and Unhygenix's report on what the weather was like outside the village only increased their anxiety. From what they understood, the world was in chaos out there; tossing and turning to Mastix's rage and wrath...and their bard was out in the middle of it. It filled them with worry; and guilt that they hadn't been able to go with him.<p>

Getafix sat on a stool in the corner. He too looked uneasy, which did little to allay the fears of the Gauls. If their druid was nervous, then there must be _something_ to be nervous about. Mastix was out there. The possibility of Cacofonix accidentally coming in contact with the monster had crossed everybody's mind, though no one had spoken this fear. It was as though they believed if they were to mention it, it would somehow come true. Even Getafix was reluctant to voice the prospect of such an event taking place. He had made sure to talk the bard through every possible situation, but that certainly didn't mean that something couldn't go wrong. In fact, the probability of that happening was far larger than the druid was letting on. He still stood by his belief that they had done what had had to be done, but that didn't make the situation any less difficult. Anything could happen. He could-

Getafix didn't get to finish that thought. He all at once felt a wonderful, physical relief wash over him. It was as if a terrible pressure; one that he had nearly become accustomed to, was suddenly released. Like he had been fending off a great horde of invisible evil, and the attack had suddenly turned away from him. It was a significant enough feeling for him to gasp, catching the other Gauls' attention. They turned to him curiously, wondering what the problem was; though, there didn't appear to be one. Getafix didn't look distressed. In fact, he looked alleviated. But a moment later, that expression changed. The druid went from looking more relaxed than they had seen him for the last few days, to going extremely rigid. His face paled considerably as a weak exclamation left his lips. "Oh no..."

Everybody tensed at the barely audible words. Vitalstitistix was by the druid's side in an instant, as was Asterix. "What is it, Getafix?" the Chief pleaded, the anxiety clear in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It seemed like anything that could go wrong, was going wrong lately, and the fear that something was about to be added to their long list was very strong. "What's happened?"

Getafix rose from his seat quite suddenly, turning to Vitalstitistix and griping the sleeve of the Chieftain's dark, green tunic, startling the Chief terribly. "It's Mastix!" The rise in emotion that sprang in the druid's tone was enough to send the Gauls into fear, but Getafix's words did so to an even greater extent.

Asterix attempted to catch the druid's attention, and calm him. He was certain that Getafix's fear was well founded, but the rest of them had to understand what was going on too. "Has he broken through?" he inquired nervously. Even as he asked it, he realized that that couldn't be. If that had been the case, Asterix was sure he would have felt some form of aggression on his person by now. But, as of the moment, he felt nothing; nothing but a sudden rush of adrenaline at Getafix's obvious concern.

The druid hurriedly shook his head, mumbling at first, but his voice quickly gaining strength. "No...No! He hasn't broken through; he's stopped his attack!"

The villagers blinked, not understanding why that was reason to be distressed. That was what they wanted, wasn't it? For Mastix to give up and leave them alone; though, they certainly had not expected such an event to actually occur. In fact, it seemed downright ridiculous. Mastix wouldn't give Asterix up that easily. Never. The Gauls had only known of the dark druid a very short time, but they knew that much. Mastix was evil. He was filled with such rage and wrath; the depths of which the Gauls had never witnessed. Oh, sure, they had seen their share of monstrous, revengeful enemies in the past, but this was different. So direct. Such a focused hatred. Powerful.

Unhygenix spoke up from his seat beside his wife, Bacteria, on the other side of the room."Well, that's good, isn't it?" He too wasn't sure he was discerning the problem correctly.

Getafix shook his head harder, his distress growing considerably by the moment. "You don't understand! The only reason Mastix would break off his attack on _us_ is if his focus has been interrupted...Or if he has shifted it to something else!..._Someone_ else..."

A look of horror seemed to dawn on the villagers' faces. The understanding came to them like the rising sun; slow, but full of clear, certain significance. There was only one person who could have caught Mastix's attention. Only one who was even out there to do so. Cacofonix.

Fulliautomatix gulped visibly; dreading the answer to their next question. "You mean he's-?"

"He's spotted Cacofonix!" Getafix finished, his fear suddenly turning to frustration. As far as anyone knew, druids were commonly very controlled folk. They had a sturdy grip on their feelings and emotions; often even thought of as impassive or seemingly indifferent. They stuck to their potions and spells, contributing to the world in that way; without really interacting with those who lived within it. They were the mysterious hermits of the earth, who cared for mankind in their own, quiet way. But Getafix was different. He was a part of a small handful of druidic men in history to leave his people for another. His emotions were far stronger; more pronounced. Though he was far calmer than any of the Gauls in most situations, it was times like this that the villagers realized just how unique their druid truly was when compared to his own people.

Panic gripped the Gauls.

Impedimenta had moved forward to stand beside Vitalstitistix. The couple seemed to lean into one another; one seeking comfort and the other trying to give it. The Chief's wife gave Getafix a frightened, imploring look. "We have to help him! You have to do something! Please!" She couldn't stand the thought of having gone through the horrible trials of the last few days, just for it to end like this; in tragedy.

Getafix looked lost. "What can I do?" he stressed, holding a hand to head, as if some heavy burden resided there. "With the Neutralizing Spell up, I can't do anything to help him!" He closed his eyes, searching his mind for a more encouraging solution, but nothing was coming to him. This whole situation from the start had made him feel more unbalanced than he had been in years; ever since that day in the Carnutes. He felt uncertain, and, for the first time in a long time, completely out of his league. "What can I do?" he asked again, as if hoping someone else held the answers. Luckily for him, someone did.

Asterix grabbed the druid's hand, effectively catching Getafix's attention. His eyes shone with a grim determination that the druid didn't necessarily like. "Getafix," the blond Gaul urged gently, "Is there some way you can shift the Neutralizing Spell to cover Cacofonix? Give him time to escape?"

A rather shocked expression crossed Getafix's face. He hadn't even considered that option. Of course, he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. He was becoming more and more worn out, at a rate he still tried to deny as a hazard to his health. "That...that might be possible. I've never tried it." The more he thought about it, the more he realized he could do it; though, not without cost. "But, Asterix, in order to do that, I'll have to let the protection around the village fall! Mastix would have the clearest shot he's had at you yet!"

Obelix stiffened visibly at that revelation. He had let Asterix wander a short ways from him, but now rose to stand directly behind his friend. He did not want Asterix putting himself in danger. Asterix always did that, and maybe that was just part of being a village warrior, but Obelix thought it was the craziest thing he had ever heard of. In his mind, it all seemed so...complicated. There had to be a simpler way of protecting others without almost killing oneself over and over again in the process. Of course, that was easy for him to say; he was nearly indestructible, or so it seemed at times. His boundless strength powered him, making him immune to the restrictions in which the other Gauls were trapped. He could afford to step in; put himself in danger for the others' sake, because, most times, nothing could hurt him. Oh, he wasn't invincible; he knew that. But Asterix was...Asterix. He was strong when he had the potion streaming through his veins, but without it...Asterix was even less invincible than Obelix. By a _lot_. Asterix knew that. So why was he always putting himself in danger? Obelix just couldn't understand.

Asterix was very much aware of Obelix's discomfort. He had felt the large Gaul rise and come to stand by him; guarding him, as Obelix had done many times in the past. It was something that Asterix relied on, maybe more than was healthy. Obelix was one of those best friends that every person needs in their life; a pillar of strength that keeps you founded and focused. But Asterix also knew that, small as he was, he could take care of himself when push came to shove. Obelix didn't have to watch over him as closely as he always did, even if it often was the comfort that Asterix needed. It all came down to Asterix fearing that Obelix would get hurt. It was an almost laughable thought; Obelix being harmed, but it wasn't impossible. Obelix was human; flesh and blood; and, just like he wanted to with _all_ the villagers, Asterix wanted to keep him safe...No matter what.

"I'm willing to take that chance," he spoke up bravely, standing as tall as his stature allowed. "If Mastix gets his hands on Cacofonix, that'll be it for us. Cacofonix has _got_ to get through."

Obelix lay a hand gently on his friend's shoulder. "Asterix-"

The smaller Gaul shook his head vigorously, carefully separating himself from Obelix's touch. If Mastix did hit him with another spell, he didn't want Obelix getting burned again. "We don't have a choice, Obelix! We're running out of time! Do it, Getafix! Please!"

The druid exchanged an uneasy glance with Obelix, half expecting the biggest Gaul to object strongly. But this time, Obelix remained silent; his hands clenched at his sides and his expression set like the very stones he quarried. Getafix knew that Obelix had accepted the truth behind Asterix's words, as had they all, though, perhaps, with a considerable amount of hesitation. There really was no other choice.

Rallying his strength, Getafix closed his eyes, preparing himself to shift the Neutralizing Spell that surrounded the village, so that it would surround Cacofonix instead. It wouldn't be easy, seeing as the bard was a bit further away, but Getafix had to try. It was something the druid wasn't even sure if he could do, what with him being so tired. His strength was quickly dwindling, but if this helped them get Cacofonix out of this nightmare and off to get assistance from the outside world, it would be worth it. Reaching his full magical capacity, Getafix settled all his concentration firmly on the bard.

The villagers knew the instant that the spell around the village fell. It was like someone whipping the warm blanket off of you on a cold, crisp morning. They suddenly felt very much striped of all protection, unconcealed and out in the open. Asterix made sure that he wasn't close to any of the others. He would not allow anyone to get hurt again because of him. The Gauls all stood watching anxiously as Getafix struggled to raise the spell on one, small individual, deep within the forest outside the village...

**...**

**Again, I'm so sorry for the amount of time it took to get this up! :) **

**Midterms went really well, so thank you all for your kind wishes. I am now on spring break and, though I won't promise anything, I will do my best to write as much as possible. Thank you so much for your support! :)**

**Je vois que je ai beaucoup de lecteurs français ainsi. Ne laissez pas le fait que vous ne pouvez pas parler anglais obtenir de la manière de laisser un commentaire. Je apprécie vos pensées aussi. :) Il me aider à apprendre mieux le français aussi. (I also suspect that my French is pretty bad. I'll work on it. ;))**


	18. Reshift

Cacofonix was losing the fight. He tried to hold his ground, bracing himself against anything within his reach; but still, he was losing the fight. Whatever spell Mastix had him trapped in was strong; tugging at him as though there were ropes tied to his very soul. It pulled and yanked, and the more the bard tried to resist, the more it started to physically hurt. While his struggle was against keeping his body planted where it was, the main battle was in his mind. The attack was mental, digging into his thoughts; sewing false beliefs that he _wanted_ to step into the clearing; that everything would be fine if he did. It would be a relief; a freeing act on his part. But Cacofonix knew better. At least some of his thoughts stayed intact, and that was the part of him that was fighting for all it was worth. But he was losing. Slowly but surely, his unsteady feet began to inch forward. Sometimes he managed to pull them back a few steps, but that was becoming less frequent. He was starting to lose ground, as well as strength.

All the while, Mastix was stalking the clearing like a caged tiger. He was peering into the underbrush, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of his daring intruder, though his mannerisms spoke that he wasn't putting all that much effort into the action. Why should he? After all, his spell was doing most of the work. The bard wouldn't be able to hold up much longer.

The dark druid kept up a steady flow of conversation; needling and reedy, trying to coax Cacofonix out into the open, though it was more likely part of the spell. "Hmm. You're doing quite well." Mastix gave a gleeful cackle. "Most of my...other subjects, never lasted this long against my Calling Spell. Strange feeling it gives you, isn't it? A sort of barely tolerable draining of control. I'm sure you've noticed the way in weasels its way into you, slowly taking over your will." He chuckled again. "Oh, but you're fighting it. That means, for you, it's a little bit different. Along with everything else, you're starting to feel that dull, burning ache...aren't you? That fiery burn that feels like it's eating away at you? No? Well, you will."

In truth, Cacofonix could already feel it. It only added to his dilemma, causing his body to strain harder against the spell, which only increased the pain. He felt hot; sweat breaking out on his skin. His legs were burning with a sensation like fire. The bard gave a small gasp as he felt his body move another fraction forward against his will. Cacofonix was shaking, whether from fear or the strain of fighting, he didn't know. He was going to collapse; or, at least his mind was going to. Then the spell would have full control, and the bard would stumble into the clearing. The last defensive walls of his mind began to crumble. This was it. He simply couldn't hold out any longer.

Then, suddenly, like a tidal wave of relief, Mastix's spell was blocked. The result was something like whiplash, causing the bard to stumble backwards, soundlessly against the soggy earth. He sat there trembling and gasping as quietly as he could, trying to regain something relatively normal for a heart beat. His limbs felt weak and shaky, still tingling with that fire-like burn, though it was a fire rapidly going out. The pain and fear of before was replaced with bafflement. Cacofonix couldn't figure out what had happened. Why would Mastix let him go? That just didn't add up with the dark druid's character. But then, as the feeling of security and relief grew stronger about him, the answer slowly dawned on him. It was Getafix. Somehow, the Gaulish druid had managed to cover him with the Neutralizing Spell, shielding the bard from Mastix's evil intent...But if Getafix was protecting him...who was protecting the village? Could Getafix really protect both at the same time? Cacofonix doubted that. That meant that the village was in grave danger! And all because of him! The bard realized that he needed to get away. The moment he was safe, Getafix could refocus on the village; on Asterix. Mastix would sense their weakness...he already had.

Mastix broke into a string of profound curses; his expression having gone from gleeful to positively livid. The green and black mist around him pulsed angrily, causing flashes of light to rumble within the dark clouds. Mastix had felt something cut in across his Calling Spell, and he recognized it at once as the same spell that Getafix had used against his attack on their little warrior the day before. Getafix had somehow been able to shift the concentration of the...A cruel smile slipped across the dark druid's face. An understanding, leading to a sinister observation. If Getafix had shifted the spell...Asterix was unprotected. Dismissing the fact that an intruder still lurked in the bushes nearby, Mastix raised his hands once more in the direction of the Gaulish village, and, with a low chuckle, sent a strong wave of magic toward his true prize. Why waste time with an ordinary villager, when his main goal had just made himself so readily vulnerable.

* * *

><p>The spell hit Asterix with tremendous force, causing him to yelp, even though he had been expecting it. He had known that Mastix would take the opportunity to attack while their defenses were down; slamming his magic at his target with unconcealed malice. With absolutely nothing to block or delude it, Asterix found that the strength of the dark druid's power was greatly increased, though not with the soul-ripping pain of yesterday. This was new; somewhat less harmful physically, but certainly no less pleasant. It was a strange sensation, like being pulled; tugged mentally. The blond Gaul found that he suddenly wanted to give himself up to Mastix. He wanted to give in, but, the part of him that wasn't affected, fought with every fiber of its being.<p>

Unbeknownst to the Gaulish warrior, this was the same spell that Cacofonix had been suffering only a few moments before. Just as Getafix had shifted the Neutraling Spell from the village to Cacofonix, Mastix had shifted the Calling Spell from Cacofonix to the village; more specifically, to Asterix. But the dark druid, as cruel as he was, added a little more to his attack than he had on the bard. Asterix found all at once that he felt as if his chest were tightening; making it terribly hard to breath. This wasn't like the Paralyzing spell either; not that crushing weight surrounding his body on all sides. This was different. This was more like being trapped; being forced to stay and forced to go all at once. It was some sort of panic, which was something Asterix very rarely felt. And it hurt...and it was steadily beginning to hurt more.

The other Gauls stood in a clump in the corner, watching fearfully. They had almost grown accustomed to feeling helpless during Mastix's attacks, but that did not make the experience any less painful. Their eyes wide and, in the womens' cases, brimming with tears, they had no choice but to stand by fearfully. They had noticed Asterix's yelp of surprise, as well as seen the sudden rigid way the smaller Gaul was holding himself. They were relieved that he wasn't writhing or squirming like he had the day before; and he seemed free to move as he wished, but it was more than apparent that Asterix was struggling to keep himself where he was standing. His breathing had quickened, and sounded somewhat labored, but he was still getting air at the moment, which allayed their fears just a fraction.

Obelix's eyes were wide, his hands clutching each other in front of his chest. He hated this. _Hated_ it. Mastix had no right to do this to his best friend...and they didn't even know why or what he was doing! As far as the big Gaul was concerned, the dark druid was torturing Asterix for no apparent reason. And Asterix was letting him! They all were! With a sense of frustration, Obelix accused himself of having let this go too far. That was the last straw. The biggest Gaul stepped toward his friend purposefully.

"No, Obelix!" Asterix cried out. His shout was more of a strangled yell, but it was sufficient to stop Obelix in his tracks. Asterix's eyes were fixed on him, begging him to stay away. Vitalstitistix and Fulliautomatix stepped forward to try and lead the big Gaul back to the corner, but Obelix brushed them off.

"I can't stand this any longer, Asterix!" Obelix shouted desperately, taking another step closer. "Let me help!"

"N-no, Obelix; please! I-it's alright. I'll b-be alright in a minute, Obeli-" Asterix cut off for a moment when his discomfort increased, but he managed to hide it. Under no circumstances did he want his best friend to be hurt. That would wound Asterix far more than anything else ever could. He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Obelix; to any of the villagers. "It's not as...as bad this time. Let Getafix finish wh-what he's doing. Just w-wait. I-it's almost over."

Obelix didn't like his friend's choice of words. Instead of encouraging him, they only fed his distress. "But, Asterix...Getafix?" The large Gaul turned his attention to their druid, hoping for a bit of reassurance. What he found there was only cause for more concern. The druid was standing as straight and rigid as a menhir. He had turned a pastey sort of white, making him appear quite ill. Getafix's breathing was shallow, even more so than Asterix's, and his eyes were shut tight like the fists at his sides. The druid was really fighting hard; concentrating every ounce of his strength on doing what had to be done. Obelix realized that, while he and the villagers felt utterly useless in this situation, Getafix was fighting for them. He was the only one who _could_. The druid was doing his best, and it was effecting him badly. The villagers suddenly became just as worried for Getafix as they were for Asterix. They weren't sure exactly how magic worked; how Getafix could 'shift' a spell from one place to another, and they probably would never understand it. It was far too above their upbringing; they weren't druids. But, they could see that Getafix was struggling. What he was trying to do wasn't easy, and they wished with all their hearts that they could somehow make his burden lighter.

Getafix focused his attention on Cacofonix. It was hard to do so; the bard was a good distance from them, and Getafix had never projected a spell over such a long distance. He had been doubtful as to whether he would be able to reach Cacofonix at all. Most spells had a range in which they functioned; beyond that range they were useless. Some spells could travel farther, while others could only work within a few feet of the target. To Getafix's relief, his Neutralizing Spell seemed to be the former. Though he couldn't necessarily feel where Cacofonix was exactly, he was able to tell when his spell found the bard; protecting him. Getafix was also able to tell, in a very faded, uncertain way, that Cacofonix was now on the move. He could feel it because, as the bard drew further and further away, his grip on Cacofonix weakened. The druid just hoped that Cacofonix was running of his own free will. Mastix could be chasing him, for all Getafix knew; but that idea was discarded when Mastix's spell turned to Asterix. Getafix, even with his eyes shut, could hear the distress taking place within the hut as the villagers were once again forced to watch helplessly as their warrior was attacked. Getafix knew that the only way to assist Asterix would be to shift the spell back to the village; but he couldn't do that until Cacofonix reached safety. Silently willing the bard onward, the druid focused all his attention on projecting the spell.

* * *

><p>Cacofonix gasped for breath as he put as much effort into running as he could. As soon as the bard had figured out that Mastix was no longer attacking him, but Asterix; and that the village was now unprotected, Cacofonix had taken off as fast as his legs could carry him. Mastix was far to occupied to care; too bent on getting his hands on Asterix. The bard ran through the forest, not even noticing the briers and twigs ripping at his legs. All that he knew was he had to get away. The villagers had made themselves vulnerable, so that they could help him. He needed to get out of the forest. He needed to get out of Mastix's reach so that there wasn't even the slightest chance of being used against the Gauls.<p>

He was far more disoriented than he had been before. He wasn't even sure he was heading in the right direction. Cacofonix was pretty sure he was moving away from the village; he could feel Getafix's spell weakening the further he traveled. Whether he was heading due East or not, he didn't know, but as long as the bard was putting distance between himself and the village, he was doing fine. Just as long as he kept going...

* * *

><p>Asterix felt his resolve beginning to weaken. Between the pain and the insistent pull of Mastix's spell, he was beginning to wonder what might happen if he let go just for a second. He was so tired; so very, very tired. Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a moment's breather; let Mastix gain a little slack, just for a split second...No. No, he couldn't do that! Why was he even thinking that! He couldn't give in. <em>Fight<em>! _Fight_! But it hurt to fight! The pain was increasing, and it was all Asterix could do to keep from crying out. He didn't want to make things harder for his friends, but he was drawing near to the limit of what he could physically take.

Getafix continued to project the spell, straining himself to his limits as well. The bard was almost there. The druid could feel it; sense that Cacofonix had almost reached the edge of Mastix's power. Just a few more...There!

"He's out!" Getafix shouted as he felt the magical line between him and the bard flicker out like a candle. Cacofonix was safe; outside of Mastix's power. But now came the hard part. Bracing himself, Getafix began to try and summon the shard remains of the Neutralizing Spell back over the village. It refused to come at first, whether it was because it was just too badly shattered or because the druid's dwindling energy store was greatly depleted, Getafix wasn't sure. But, after a moment or two of struggling, Getafix felt the pieces slowly shifting back together. Section by section, the village was being neutralized again.

Asterix felt Mastix's spell crumble under Getafix's bond with the village. It struggled to hold on to him; digging its claws into him like a fierce beast. Mastix was strong and determine; bent on getting his clutches on Asterix, and even now the blond warrior couldn't understand why. He had nothing the dark druid could possibly want! What did he need him for? A weapon? A slave? There were many of the other villagers who would be a far better choice in either case. Getafix could perform spells, Obelix and Fulliautomatix were quite strong, Cacofonix's voice was a considerable force, and even Unhygenix with his bad smelling fish was more of a threat than Asterix without the Magic Potion. Any one of them the warrior could see Mastix having a motive to attack; but him? Not that Asterix wanted the dark druid to go after his friends, he just didn't understand why he would target him. With these frustrated thoughts, Mastix's spell was broken, and Asterix dropped to his knees, panting for breath.

Obelix was kneeling at his side at once, followed by the other villagers. "Asterix, are you alright?" the big Gaul asked, his voice so hurt with worry that it made Asterix's heart twist in his chest.

"Y-yes," he answered, relying on those around him to carefully make his way back to his feet. "It...It wasn't nearly as painful as yesterday's attack. Thank Toutatis." He wasn't sure he could handle another assault like that one. He winced, rubbing his chest where his aching lungs resided. "But it still hurt." Asterix noticed Obelix's shoulders slump. "It's not anyone's fault," the blond Gaul added quickly. "There was nothing you could have done."

"But you wouldn't let me try," Obelix remarked, almost accusingly; but his voice told of much deeper emotions.

Asterix met his sad gaze. "I couldn't let you. It's what...I wanted. It was my decision. You wouldn't want to make things harder for me, would you?"

Obelix lowered his eyes. "No." Of course he wouldn't!

"Then stay safe...All of you." Asterix shifted his eyes to meet those of the other Gauls. They all hesitated, but then nodded dutifully. If that was what Asterix wished, they'd do their best to keep that promise. They wanted to be safe; who wouldn't? But they wanted Asterix to be safe as well.

"What about Cacofonix?" Impedimenta chimed in worriedly. "Did he make it to safety?"

"He must have," Fulliautomatix replied confidently, "Otherwise Getafix wouldn't have shifted the Neutralizing Spell back to us. Right Getafix?...Getafix?...GETAFIX!" The blacksmith lunged forward to support the collapsing druid. Getafix was breathing heavily, one hand shakily grasping his chest, while the other held his head. He was obviously in great discomfort; pale as snow and trembling violently.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," he insisted weakly as Fulliautomatix and Vitalstitistix carefully helped him over to a place to sit. He sank into the seat with obvious relief, continuing to hold his head and chest. After a few moments of clenching his eyes shut and attempting to regain his breath, the pain abruptly left the druid. With a sigh of relief, Getafix opened his eyes. He was met by a sea of concerned faces. He realized what his reaction must have looked like to them and felt quite guilty that he had caused them even more distress. "I'm sorry," he apologized unsteadily. "The transferring of the spell was just a little more...taxing than I thought it would be." He took in a wheezing breath. "But, to answer your question, Impedementa; Cacofonix is out of Mastix's reach."

The Gauls gave a collective sigh.

Asterix moved to lay a hand on the druid's shoulder. "How badly did the shift drain you?" he asked worriedly.

Getafix almost lied and said that he was no worse off than he had been before. He didn't want to needlessly cause them any anxiety. But as he took in their grim expressions, the druid knew there would be no fooling the Gauls. Locking his gaze sadly with Asterix he answered. "Very badly."

Asterix closed his eyes, as if seeking some inner strength. He nodded. "How long before you can't generate the spell any more?"

"I-I really don't know, Asterix...As long as I can."

* * *

><p>Cacofonix stumbled and fell to his knees just outside Mastix's domain. He stayed bent, resting his hands on the ground in front of him as he panted, sweat dripping from his skin along with the rainwater that was still running off of him from the storm. He felt dizzy from his run; hot and shaky from pushing himself far beyond any distance he had ever sprinted before. He knew he'd be alright in a moment; he just needed to catch his breath. He coughed harshly, not liking the wheezing that came from his lungs as he did so. He hoped the ache in his throat and chest would hurry up and leave him, so that he could continue on his way.<p>

Getafix had been right. The moment the bard had reached the edge of Mastix's magic, the storm had dissipated. Looking behind him, Cacofonix could see it raging in the woods between the trees. The black fog swirled around the branches, seeming to wither them. But it could not reach him. He was safe; and it took several moments before that fact sunk in. He was safe...but his friends were not. Cacofonix wasn't even sure if they were alright now. He had felt the Neutralizing Spell leave him, so Getafix must have re-initiated it to cover the village. But the question was, how much damage had been done in the meantime? Mastix had had plenty of time to attack while the villagers supplied him with protection. Asterix might be hurt...or worse...

_No, can't think of that right now_. He needed to get help. Danger was still danger, whether the Gauls were worse off or not.

Shakily rising to his feet, Cacofonix looked up at the bright, clear, blue sky. The sun was shining down on him, heat feeling warm and pleasant on his chilled skin. Sticking a hand down inside the front of his wet tunic, the bard pulled out the rolled up parchment that contained Getafix's hand-drawn map. Cacofonix was afraid the moisture might have soaked it, smudging the ink into something illegible. Luckily, that wasn't the case. The map was a little damp, both with rainwater and his own perspiration, but the words and directions were still perfectly intact. Folding the map this time, the bard placed in back into his tunic. It wouldn't do him any good yet; not so close to the village. The landmarks Getafix had drawn started just beyond Laudanum and Compendium; two of the four Roman camps that surrounded the Gaulish village. Until then, Cacofonix would have to rely on other means of finding his direction. He shielded his eyes as he surveyed the sun's position in the sky. It was nearly early noon now, and the sun was almost at its zenith. After a moment of remembering his lessons, Cacofonix determined due East. Wringing a little of the water from his clothing, the bard headed in that direction at a fast, determined pace.

As worried as he was for the other Gauls, Cacofonix couldn't help but feel relieved at being out of the village. He had felt so trapped there; hemmed in on all sides by Mastix's evil. And it wasn't even aimed at him! The bard couldn't imagine what it must be like for Asterix; the target of the dark druid's focus. And then there had been the whole thing with Unhygenix. That had been hard to handle too. Cacofonix knew he had made, what could have been, a terrible mistake. He shuddered to think of what might have happened if the falling table had landed on anyone. Unhygenix had two children. Being hit by an object that large; that heavy and from such a height...It could have killed a young one. By Toutatis! It could have killed a full grown adult! The bard hadn't really thought about it that way before. No wonder Unhygenix had been so upset! Cacofonix had scared him. Terrified him. The bard silently gained a new understanding for the fishmonger; who was simply trying to deal with the emotions he was feeling the way he was most familiar, which in this case, was anger. But yet, Unhygenix had volunteered to walk him, along with Fulliautomatix, to the gate in the pouring rain. As strange as it seemed, the bard realized that that was as close to an apology he was going to get from the fishmonger. Even though Uhygenix's harsh words from that morning still stung, they hurt a lot less now that Cacofonix was sure the fishmonger had not truly meant it. The bard had said some pretty hurtful things too; things he hadn't meant either. Unhygenix had been his friend ever since they were children. That was a friendship that the bard wanted to keep intact. Cacofonix resolved to apologize once more when he returned to the village. The rift in their friendship needed to be mended, and Cacofonix was willing to take the first step.

As the bard continued through the bright, colorful woods, his mind shifted to other subjects, most of which had to do with the last couple days. In hindsight, it all felt so predictable. They should have known not to let a stranger into the village. Oh course, Mastix had magically disguised himself as the woman, Petunia, and there had been nothing particularly threatening about her. What else could they have done? Tossed her out? Unlikely. The Gauls were known for their hospitality. They would never have turned away someone in need, as 'Petunia' had claimed to be. But they had been blinded by the misleading appearance; none of them had even suspected...except maybe Asterix. The bard recalled the warrior's reluctance to share any knowledge with their guest, something Asterix would never have done without good reason. But why hadn't he spoken up? They could have done something...right? The more Cacofonix thought about it; they couldn't have. Even if Asterix had mentioned his suspicions, the villagers wouldn't have believed him. After all, there is nothing dangerous about a little, old woman. Now that same 'little old woman' had the Gauls practically on their knees. Even if Asterix had spoken up; even if they had believed him, would it really have changed anything that had happened? If they had faced 'Petunia', Mastix would have probably attacked Asterix right then and there. They'd still be in danger, maybe even more so. For if they had stood up to Mastix when he first showed up, they would have been facing him without Getafix.

That was a frightening thought in and of itself. Getafix was really the only thing standing between hope and total disaster. The druid was the light that offset Mastix's darkness. Though Getafix claimed to be less powerful than the dark druid, and maybe he was, but he was managing to misdirect the villain's attacks, and that was all they could ask of him. Getafix was doing his best for them; protecting them. He didn't have to; he wasn't even one of the villagers, per say. He was an outsider who, through the years, had been incorporated into their lives; their family. He had no obligations; no reason to do what he did, whether it was making Magic Potion or defending them from some druidic lunatic. But Getafix stayed. He fought for them. In fact, if Getafix hadn't shown up that morning to face Mastix in his hut, they would probably all be very bad off...or maybe even dead. It was still a mystery how Getafix had known he was needed. He had been away on a trip to the Carnutes; how had he known about Mastix being in the village? Those were questions that Cacofonix knew he wouldn't be getting an answer too; at least, not for quite some time. Right now, he had other things to worry about.

The bard made his way through the underbrush, still trying to ease the ache in his limbs from his mad scramble to freedom. Mastix's spell had also had a rather nasty effect on him, and his muscles felt oddly weak and loose, as though he could only half feel them. But he couldn't slow his steady pace. Four days to reach the Carnutes was far to long a time in his opinion. He would push himself until he dropped if need be, though he rather hoped he would come across something to get him there faster. Maybe he could borrow a horse from a farmer along the way. That would speed up his journey significantly. Of course that all depended on-

SNAP!

The sound of a crunching twig to his left made Cacofonix nearly jump right out of his skin. His heartbeat skyrocketed again, as fears that Mastix had somehow followed him filled the bard's mind. The beautiful forest all at once lost its appeal, as Cacofonix stood frozen to the spot, listening motionless like a petrified hare. The forest was completely silent, except for the far off call of a love struck sparrow. But then-

SN-APP!

With a leap and a bound, Cacofonix veered of to the right, away from whatever was lurking within the bushes. The bard renewed his efforts when loud, heavy footsteps broke out of the silence and pursued him through the underbrush. Jumping over fallen logs and ducking under low branches, Cacofonix struggled to put some distance between him and whoever was chasing him, but his pursuer was gaining on him fast, while the bard's exhaustion was catching up to him even faster. Putting on one more, final burst of speed, Cacofonix leaped over a particularly high shrub. Even as he jumped it he couldn't believe he was actually going to make it over. But speed and desperation seemed to have lent wings to his feet, and he bolted over the foliage without a problem...but his triumph was short-lived.

BAM!

Before the bard had even landed his feet back on the solid earth, he smashed into something cold and hard with a smash and a rattle of metal. The impact knocked the wind out of him and Cacofonix fell back, landing hard on his rear with a painful gasp. He practically saw stars, and his already aching body screamed in protest to the sudden, brutal halt. When the dark haze that hovered in the bard's vision cleared, Cacofonix blinked, wincing as he looked up to see what he had hit...right up into the equally startled faces of a fully armed Roman patrol.

"Oops..."

**...**

**Ah, FINALLY! Seems like it took me forever to get this finished. The only time I've had to write the last few days is at night after the rest of my family has gone to bed. Last night I must have fallen asleep while writing because I woke up my face was planted against the computer screen. Guess I need to get a little more sleep... :)**

**Poor Cacofonix...He just doesn't get a break. ;)**


End file.
